


Night Like This

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Never Met, Historical, Long, M/M, Road Trips, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They found each other on the battlefields of the Great War, an end to the crushing loneliness of centuries. And now, Germany and England embark on a quest to find other like them, even when history sometimes gets in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Despite being unfinished, this is still the longest work I've ever written and I am still very proud of it. So as not to disappoint and leave people reading to the end only to wait, this may never be finished. Time has taken me away from the Hetalia fandom (and various other things soured this fic for me a little), but I'd like to have a record of it outside of the kink meme.
> 
> If you do read, I hope you enjoy!

Finding others like them was a noble endeavour, of that Germany had no doubt. He could remember the crushing _loneliness_ of it all, watching people he knew age and die so very quickly, and nights spent lying awake in a new house after moving again because people were starting to whisper about how he had looked twenty for years. 

He'd always look twenty. 

And now he was no longer alone, and there were _others_ , others who wouldn't succumb to age or illness and he was impatient to be moving, to find more, as though there were a new world to explore that had previously been closed to him. He knew that Arthur felt the same, the way his expression brightened at the thought of setting off, seeking out the others that had to exist. They must. If they existed, England and Germany, then there must be others.

The actual setting out though hadn't been quite so simple. 

“You have checked the route several times already.”

There was a map spread out on the floor between them, lines marked across it in red ink. Arthur... _England_ (and Ludwig wasn't certain that he would ever not thrill at the realisation) looked up at him, blinking for a moment before he scowled, folding his arms over his chest stubbornly. “It can never hurt to double check.”

Ludwig wisely held his tongue regarding the fact that Arthur had been compulsively checking the map ever since they'd decided upon a route. He sipped the last of his beer, turning the glass between his hands. “We leave tomorrow,” he said quietly. “We should return to the house and rest.”

Arthur pursed his lips, reaching for his own beer, although he made no move to finish it. “We should,” he agreed, and he didn't make any motion to stand either.

Ludwig sighed, shaking his head. He liked to flatter himself that in the months (five months, three weeks and four days) since he had come to England, he had learned to understand Arthur, just a little. He was starting to suspect that this behaviour was not reluctance so much as nervousness and the thought was a little strange for him, when Arthur was in every other aspect of life confident, overly so in fact.

There had been the understandable delays; British papers for Ludwig, because being German in Europe now was... complicated, organising supplies and contacts and that had been acceptable. But now, it was just becoming frustrating.

He shifted his weight, trying to think of a way to break the awkward silence. Arthur was still staring at the map, tracing the route with his fingertips. "Organisation is admirable," and it wasn't what he wanted to say but he was a martial country, not an orator.

Arthur made a soft noise that might have been agreement, and didn't look up at him. The silence continued unabated.

It wasn't until Ludwig cleared his throat that Arthur spoke again, breaking in quickly before Ludwig could speak.

"We might not find them."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, a look of bemusement on his face. "Pardon?"

Arthur looked up at him from beneath his fringe, his head half tilted in Ludwig's direction. "Others like us, I mean." He sighed, running a hand through choppy hair which Ludwig had never seen him manage to tame. "How long did it take us to find each other?" he asked, voice more subdued than Ludwig remembers ever hearing it. "Centuries and longer and even then it was pure chance which brought us together. We're walking blind and there's no guarantee that we'll ever find them, if they exist."

Ludwig blinked, lips drawing into a thin line, confused at this change in Arthur who had seemed so eager not long ago. "It seems impossible that of every Nation of the world, only we would exist." That would perhaps be worse than being the only one of their kind.

Arthur shook his head. "I just don't think that it is wise to become invested in something like this." And the words that he didn't say were easy enough to guess. _Didn't want to raise their hopes, didn't want to build them up only for them to come crashing down as they realise how alone they truly were, unnatural creatures in a world of mortals._

Arthur laughed hoarsely, gulping back at the last of his scotch, and Ludwig was sure that the bottle had been more than half full when they'd begun. "What are the chances of us just running into someone else like us?"

There was a bitter note to his voice, one that Ludwig had not heard before and it was a little disturbing, if he was honest, when he recalled the enthusiasm of only a few weeks ago. "What were the chances of the two of us meeting, not once, but several times?" Ludwig asked seriously. He did not believe in fate necessarily, but perhaps it was not so far fetched to believe in something drawing their kind to meet. "But we did meet, and here we are." And he was undeniably grateful for that, despite the circumstances.

Arthur looked up at him for a moment, trailing his fingers around the rim of the glass in his hand. Their gazes locked for a moment before Arthur turned away, snorting softly. "I suppose there's nothing for it anyway. We have tickets. It would be a terrible waste not to use them." Ludwig suppressed a smile at the grumpy response that he was starting to realise was typical of Arthur. 

Arthur began to push himself up to his feet, a little unsteadily after the alcohol, and Ludwig resisted the urge to reach out and steady him, crushing the thought ruthlessly. For all the relief of not being alone, they had known each other only a short time in reality. It would never do to be too familiar.

"I just worry that if we don't find anyone..." Arthur paused, shaking his head. "Never mind." He gathered up the map, crumpling it into his knapsack, and Ludwig had to wince as the creases that was going to cause.

"If we do not find them, then we are no worse off than we are now," Ludwig offered, collecting his own things, papers and pens and the new Brownie camera that they had purchased for the trip. "And we will have seen the world as well." The thought made him smile a little. He'd seen so little of it.

"Hmph," Arthur muttered in response. "I hate pragmatists." 

"Do you prefer pessimists?"

Arthur gave him a sideways look, lips curling into a smile. "Pessimists at least, are never disappointed."

Ludwig considered that for a moment, giving it due attention, until Arthur snorted softly. "You're an odd one," he said, and Ludwig gave him a quizzical look which just made Arthur laugh more. "Are all Germans this stoic, or am I just particularly blessed?"

"My people are as diverse as any other," Ludwig replied, a touch of reproach in his voice. "Just as I am certain that not all English are... the same."

Arthur smiled; he smiled at the oddest things, Ludwig was finding, and scooped up the keys that he'd used to let them into the tower that housed Big Ben. He wasn't supposed to have them, Ludwig had discovered, but had... appropriated them during one of his apparently infrequent visits to the government. It couldn't be theft, of course, not when you were the country, or at least, that's what Ludwig kept telling himself, considering he had keys to the Reichstag and had spent a memorable new year celebration drunk on top of Brandenburg Gate. The double standard prickled at him a little, but it had to be admitted that they had different rules to humans. Probably. For himself and Arthur anyway. Who knew what the others were like?

They descended the numerous stairs in companionable silence, and stepped out into the chilly night. Arthur slung his jacket around his shoulders, and Ludwig stuffed his hands into his pockets, waiting while Arthur turned to lock up.

There was a shout from down the road. "Oi! Hooligans! What do you think you're doing?!"

Arthur blinked, and Ludwig turned to see a man dashing down the street towards them, waving his arms and practically screaming at them. He looked rather unhappy, was Ludwig's thought, before Arthur swore and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off down the road as quickly as he could. Confused, but not really wanting to deal with an irate Englishman, Ludwig followed.

They kept running until the man's screams faded from earshot and their breathlessness turned to laughter and both of them ended up leaning against the wall of a small alleyway, stifling snickers.

"Who was that?" Ludwig finally managed to say when he'd caught his breath.

Arthur shrugged, reaching for his hip flask to take a nip of whiskey. He held it out for Ludwig, who shook his head. He didn't particularly relish the thought of traveling with a hangover. Arthur didn't seem to care. "Probably the caretaker," Arthur said as he fastened the lid and stuck the flask back into his pocket. He smirked as he looked up at Ludwig. "He really hates that he's never been able to catch me."

"Ah," Ludwig said, and it was the kind of thing that he felt he should disapprove of, probably would if it were any one of his young humans, but, well, he had been up there too, several times now, and it would be terribly hypocritical. "He was very... loud."

Arthur gave a short laugh and resettled his bag over his shoulder, setting off walking again. "Wonder sometimes if it wouldn't be worth being constantly known by my government, just to be able to go up there legitimately. I'm sure that at some point, I'm going to end up in a copper's cell until I can find someone who knows enough to get me released."

It made Ludwig smile. "I was once chased out of the army headquarters for trespassing," he offered, the slight embarrassment of the story worth it when Arthur laughs again, full-bodied and genuinely amused.

"You'll have to tell me more."

\----------

"Why did I agree to this again?" Arthur muttered, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun as they boarded the ferry. He was bleary eyed and looked slightly green, although he kept his balance remarkably well once they stepped on board. Of course, this was while they were still docked. It would be more turbulent once they were out on the open sea.

Aware of the humans around them, passengers and people looking over papers, Ludwig gave a non-committal answer and checked their room designation again. Arthur didn't seem inclined to move from his place near the railing of his own volition, so Ludwig grasped his elbow gently, steering him towards the stairs which led below deck. Arthur started at the touch, neither of them were comfortable with casual contact for the most part, but he didn't protest, just clutched his bag and seemed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

They found their room with only a little searching, and Ludwig ushered Arthur inside. The other Nation unceremoniously dropped his bags and went to bury his face against the mattress of the narrow bed. He turned his tired gaze towards Ludwig. "This is your fault," he grumbled, although there was no malice there, just the grumpiness that a hangover brought to a man.

"As I recall, you booked the ferry crossing." 

"Yes, but that isn't the point. It's still your fault." The ferry trembled as it began to move, and England groaned again, throwing an arm over his face. "At least sailing ships weren't _noisy_."

"You sailed?" Ludwig asked, hiding a smile as he pushed their cases into the corner of the cabin. He had a vague idea of the country's history, but that wasn't the same as knowing Arthur's history.

Arthur made a noise of agreement. "Mmmm, for a long time. Navy vessels, merchant ships. I visited the Americas back when they were first discovered." There was a strange note to his voice when he said that, but Ludwig didn't pay it much heed. 

Somehow it suited Arthur though, as mercurial as he could be.

"That sounds like it would have been exciting," Ludwig replied, taking the time to open cupboards, seeing what space they had out of the force of long habit. "I regret a little that I was not around for the age of exploration." 

Arthur gave a soft laugh that trailed off into a groan. "It wasn't as good as it was made out to be as I recall. Long stretches of repetitive boredom punctuated by everything trying to kill you."

That does draw a soft laugh from Ludwig, although there's a slight edge to it, who finally settles himself on the edge of the bed, carefully not touching Arthur. "It doesn't seem as though much has changed since then at times." War interspersed with periods of uneasy peace. Like now. He wondered how long it could last.

Arthur seemed to have sensed his thoughts when he spoke next. "Mmm, we'll see. Who knows, maybe this time peace is going to last." He stretched out, dragging the covers over himself and burying his face once more. Ludwig was touched a little to see that he automatically left enough space on the bed for him, should he want to nap while they made the crossing.

"Yes. Maybe it will," Ludwig agreed quietly as Arthur's breathing evened out.

Still, the thought made Ludwig uneasy, unable to settle for a long time, because he knew too well the treaties and concessions which had marked the end of the war, and in the pit of his heart, part of him, his people, knew that it couldn't be that easy.


	2. Chapter 2

As a starting point, the Netherlands had two advantages; it was small in comparison to many of the other countries in Europe, and also it was neutral and had been throughout the war. Germany was not the most popular entity in Europe at the moment after all, and it made Ludwig feel a little more confident, beginning in a country that wouldn't automatically consider him an enemy.

Stepping out into the crowded streets of Amsterdam however, the fact that the Netherlands was comparatively small didn't seem like that much of an advantage.

Arthur, stood next to him on the front step of their hotel, stared, his eyes wide and slightly horrified. "This is going to take forever." He sighed and ran a hand through his permanently untidy hair, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He still looked tired, although sleeping in a bed that wasn't located on a glorified row boat, as he had so eloquently put it, had done wonders for his pallor at least. He looked far less green around the lips.

Ludwig rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling a little of his determination draining out of him as he was hit by the enormity of the task. Knowing the population of a country, and seeing even a fraction of that population presented, were two very different things. "The two of us aren't short on time at least," Ludwig said lamely. Arthur just glared. "We should at least get some breakfast while we're here," Ludwig offered a bit more confidently. Breakfast at least was something that could be relied upon.

"That would be a good idea, I think," Arthur agreed, perking up a little at the suggestion. "I'm starving."

"You refused anything when I offered on the ferry," Ludwig replied with a small smile. "You said that it was making your hangover worse just looking at it."

"Well, I'm not hungover now, and you're paying," Arthur said with a lot more cheer, and he had started walking off before Ludwig could even open his mouth to protest. He had to run to catch up to him, or risk losing Arthur in the crowd.

They found a nice little cafe down a side street which wasn't too crowded, so that they could sit and talk in peace. The waitress brought them their food and drinks and left them to it.

And breakfast did seem to help some. Arthur became more animated after a cup of hot tea, and the food was rather good; cold cuts of meat and bread and cheese, which Arthur complained about as being far too continental, but devoured anyway.

Finally, Arthur looked at Ludwig over the rim of his teacup. "So what _are_ we going to do?" he asked seriously. "Even if we are... I hesitate to say 'immortal', we can't ask every person in the Netherlands whether they're the anthropomorphic personification of their nation. They'll _laugh_ at us." He sounded so perturbed by the idea that Ludwig had to force down a smile. "And as I said," England continued quickly, perhaps sensing Ludwig's amusement, "it would take forever."

Ludwig nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his coffee before replying. "Perhaps, though, we could narrow the pool of candidates."

Arthur arched an eyebrow curiously. "Oh?"

"Well, look at what we know about our kind so far from our two specimens."

"That would be us," Arthur replied, sounding a little sceptical.

"Exactly. We know ourselves very well by now, I would think."

"Last time I checked," Arthur said, "sound scientific methodology frowned upon using yourself as a theoretical specimen... or an actual specimen for that matter."

"You will excuse me for my bluntness, but this isn't scientific and we are not replete with options."

Arthur sighed, defeated. "Go on then."

Ludwig continued, a thoughtful look making his features look softer and younger. "Firstly, age. We have both seen countless years, but we appear as young men in our prime, correct?"

Arthur nodded, eyes narrowing. Ludwig could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"So we know that our physical appearance is at odds with our true age. Furthermore, as I am sure we can both attest to, being a Nation, a personification, is taxing, mentally and physically. It would seem ridiculous to have a personification of an established Nation have the body of, say, an old man, or a very young child. Perhaps then, we could narrow down our search to men and women of between, say, sixteen and thirty."

"Make it thirty-five to be on the safe side," Arthur replied, giving a slow nod.

Ludwig smiled and nodded. "Done."

Arthur didn't reply for a moment, the silence dragging on. "It's still thousands and thousands of people," he said uncertainly.

Ludwig's face fell a little. it was true but... no! He wouldn't accept that it was futile!

"Id' been planning on divining," Arthur continued, looking morosely down at the table-top, which was lucky because it meant that he couldn't see Ludwig giving him a look every bit as sceptical as the one that Arthur had given him earlier. "I tried last night, but the pendulum just swung over the whole of the country. I need something more definite in mind than 'find the Netherlands'."

Ludwig shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "Ah, Arthur, I do not think that 'divining' is the most... reliable of methods." He really didn't want to have to tell his _companion_ that divining and mediumship were all a hoax to prey on the gullible. He wouldn't have expected someone as intelligent as Arthur to believe in such nonsense.

"Not without a name or a face or something similar to search for," Arthur said sharply, giving Ludwig a challenging look.

Ludwig sighed and ran a hand through his hair, steeling himself before speaking again. He couldn't quite believe that he was having this conversation. "Arthur, divination, _magic_ , is not real. It's just coincidence and chicanery."

Arthur pursed his lips for a moment before he smirked. "Ludwig, you're the anthropomorphic personification of a country, able to feel the mood of your people and attacks on your land as though they were happening to your own body. Doesn't that sound like something from a fairy-tale?" 

"That... that isn't the same!" Ludwig protested, although when Arthur put it like that, it sounded, but still! Magic wasn't real!

Arthur shrugged dismissively. "Think what you like. We're still no closer to finding out man. Or woman. _Person_."

That was unfortunately true, much as Ludwig did not like to admit defeat. Ludwig frowned, sipping the last of his coffee as thought about a solution, letting the gentle chatter of the other patrons lull him. Much of it was about the war still, which made him a little uncomfortable, but... oh... _oh_ , yes, that might work!

He looked back up, expression filled with new determination, and caught Arthur's wandering attention. "Arthur, when you serve with your army, they put your names on the records, yes?" There had always been people in the German government and civil service who knew about him and would make it look as though he'd always been there. And he didn't know how he would have managed to not arouse suspicion over his 'inherited' wealth and changing details if not for a very cooperative bank willing to be discreet.

"Yes, they do," Arthur said, eyes widening as he caught on. "And land titles and deeds. You can't be entirely without records. I'm a damn fool!"

"We both are," Ludwig murmured, but there was a small smile on his lips. "Focussing on how impossible the task was instead of looking at the first place any amateur geneologist would go to."

"Even if we can't get access to current military records, there should be some older ones available," Arthur said, sounding more eager than he had since they'd first decided to set out to find others like themselves. "If we checked the historical military registers, or... or records about wars or disasters. I know I can never ignore one in my own land."

Ludwig nodded in agreement. "Nor me. It's like a compulsion, I think. They are our people, after all."

"It might not work," Arthur said suddenly. "it's still thousands of people and they might hide themselves better than we do." But he sounded more as though he were trying to convince himself, clinging to the shreds of his pessimism. Ludwig could see the bright eager hope in his eyes.

\---------

They finished what remained of their breakfasts in rather better spirits, and stepped out into the streets of Amsterdam once more a little after ten, then took a leisurely walk through the city in search of the City Hall. Normally, Ludwig would have asked for directions, but just having a course of action made things seem much less urgent. And it was an attractive city, he had to admit, with sunlight glinting on the water of the canals.

"I wonder if my old boss is here somewhere," he mused as they strolled through a pretty square, flowers in bloom. "I only met him briefly, admittedly."

"Ah, he fled here, didn't he?" Arthur asked absently, more occupied with looking at the sights. 

Ludwig nodded, an odd expression crossing his face for a moment as he thought about the Kaizer and what had passed. "They granted him refuge, yes. The war did not do him any favours, and the revolution sealed that."

"It didn't do anyone any good," Arthur replied, that tiredness seeping back into his eyes. "We can only hope that things will improve now. This... League of Nations thing," he said, gesturing vaguely in a way that could have meant anything.

"Do you belive that will work?" Ludwig asked, genuinely curious about Arthur's opinion on the matter. From the way that he talked, Ludwig knew that Arthur must have been alive for centuries.

"The nations of Europe have been at each other's throats for as long as they've existed. I have difficulty imagining that changing now, no matter how horrific this war has been."

"Perhaps it would be different if the nations themselves, the ones like us, knew each other. If we had a face and a name and a person in mind, instead of a concept." Surely it was harder to war against someone that you knew! Perhaps they could change things for the better.

Arthur gave him a wan smile, looking suddenly very old. "I would very much like to believe that. I do not want to fight against a friend."

"Nor me," Ludwig agreed, a little awkwardly, not sure whether that was an admission of friendship from Arthur or a more abstract reference. "I will certainly be hoping to avoid more conflict." Especially against Arthur's British Empire.

They fell into silence, but it didn't take long for them to reach the City Hall after that. They went inside, taking off their hats and walking over to the reception where they asked for the records department. The receptionist sent them off to the records room, where a stern-faced man questioned them about their business.

It was Arthur who smoothly stepped in, speaking eloquently as he spun a story for the man. "We're graduate students from Magdalen College at Oxford University," he said, his voice losing the rough edge that it normally posessed, becoming the smooth practiced tones of an aristocrat. "We're here for research purposes. We'd like to look at your records." He even, after a moment, pulled out papers which did appear to be from the university. Ludwig tried to mask his surprise by looking around at the files and books that filled the room.

Whatever Arthur had showed the man, it seemed to work, because after a moment he stood and guided them back from the counter and into the stacks.

Once the man had gone, Ludwig turned to Arthur, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oxford students?" he asked with a touch of amusement.

Arthur flushed slightly. "Sod off," he said, immediately returning to normal. "I'm friends with the master of the university and a few of the Dons. They let me attend lectures use the libraries. Being a student is a wonderful excuse for many things."

"Apparently so," Ludwig murmured in agreement.

They spent several hours there, poring over numerous documents; parish records, land registries, long lists of names of those who had sevred in various battles, even diaries, all to no avail, until Arthur finally threw his hands up in disgust. 

"Enough!" he said sharply. "I'm hungry and my eyes are sore and if I read about one more William, I may go mad. Every second man is called William I swear."

"It is getting late," Ludwig agreed calmly, ignoring the outburst. "We should start afresh tomorrow." He picked up the journal that he'd been using to make notes in and slipped it into the pocket of his coat carefully. 

"I did find a few names that I would like to look into," he said as they left the building, hoping that it might stop Arthur considering the day a lost cause.

Arthur gave him a sideways look, a smirk curling the edges of his lips. "Were they called William?"

Ludwig gave a snort of amusement. "Only some of them. I don't think that everyone is called William here."

"I didn't say _all_ , I just said most."

"Ah, of course. That makes all the difference."

\----------

Ludwig had The Dream again that night.

It was an old dream, one that he'd had intermittently since, well, as long as he could remember. It came to him in bits and fragments, sometimes just flashes, sometimes long arcs which scattered to dust upon waking.

The dream went like this.

He was very small, and he could watch himself while being himself, as was the way of dreams. He was running, always running, smoke and bile mixing in his throat, coating his lungs. He couldn't hear anyone following, just knew that he had to run, keep running, never look back.

He would always collapse, breathless and choking and crying for the _something_ that he had lost.

He knew that it was important. He knew that he had to find it. If he could only remember what it was.

He woke up sharply when someone shook his shoulder, eyes flying open as he reached for his knife, his bayonet, ready to rip the English dog's throat out to protect his comrades!

But there were no whistles or screams, no sound of canon fire. 

No grey trench-mud.

Just Arthur staring down at him, brow furrowed in concern.

Ludwig gasped, reaching out for the glass of water on the bedside table and downing that to erase the unpleasant taste that had filled his mouth. Only then did he turn back to Arthur, giving him a questioning look.

"You were talking in your sleep," Arthur replied, pulling away now that he was certain Ludwig was alright, and moving to perch on the edge of his own bed. 

Ludwig sighed and propped himself up against the headboard, picking at a loose thread on his rather worn pyjamas. "Was I? I don't remember."

"Of course you don't remember that part. You were asleep," Arthur replied. "Bad dream?" he asked more quietly, his voice soft.

"A-ah, something like that," Ludwig replied with a nod. "I thought I was back in the trenches for a moment."

Arthur grimaced, looking away. "Ugh. I sympathise. I've had enough dreams about that to last me a lifetime, and it's not even been a year yet."

Ludwig swallowed, feeling a little bad for not elaborating about what the dream had been, but it always left him uneasy, and really, it was just a dream. It was of no real consequence. "What time is it?" 

"Hm? Oh, a little after nine," Arthur said, glancing over at the alarm clock on the small table between the beds. "We overslept."

That made Ludwig frown. He never overslept. He hated the thought of the lost morning hours when he could have been preparing for another day. Well, there was no time to lose then, was there?

He pushed himself out of bed and went to root through his trunk for clean clothing. "We should be on our way then, shouldn't we?"

"You're very eager to spend another day in a dark room with those dusty records. It's quite disturbing."

Ludwig permitted himself a small smile. "The sooner we get there and begin work, the sooner we can find our target and leave the dusty room behind."

"That's complete bollocks," Arthur replied, "but I suppose I can't leave you to suffer alone. I'm honourable like that. Also, I'll buy breakfast today so make sure that you dress quickly."

Ludwig, already buttoning up his shirt, glanced over at Arthur, who was still wearing his pyjamas, and laughed.

\----------

In the end, their breakfast came from a street stall, something greasy and salty and delicious. It wasn't the kind of place that he'd ever expected Arthur to want to eat at, thinking that he would find it too indelicate, but he ate the food with relish, seeming to enjoy it as much as he would a meal from the finest restaurant. It left Arthur's hands grease slick and reminded Ludwig that he was all of his people, not just the rakish gentleman that he presented himself as. 

Arthur caught him looking and gave him a questioning look, in response to which, Ludwig just shook his head, focusing on his own meal.

They spent much of that day as they had the previous one; holed up in the records room, sifting through papers and pictures for some spark of recognition, some fact that was out of place. 

They did that the next day too. And the next. Until Arthur was ready to scream with frustration (and Ludwig knew that there hadn't been bits of flaking plasted and paint in the bathroom of their hotel), and even Ludwig was starting to lose hope.

It was the day after that though, when it happened.

The first photograph was old and sepia tones, crinkled around the edges. It was marked on the back as 'Java - 1876'. It was nothing remarkable. A group of smartly dressed men in front of a grand colonial house. Ludwig would not have given it a second glance if not for something that he'd seen earlier.

He flicked quickly through the stack of other images that he'd set to one side, forcing himself not to rush because then he'd have to go through them all again.

He found it near the bottom of the stack with the more modern photographs and pulled it out, setting the two pictures side by side. This second one was obviously better quality, and marked with 'Rotterdam - 1913' in a different hand to the first. 

He held his breath, hardly daring to hope, but when he looked, there it was. Although the first photograph was grainy, it was easy to make out the man in both of them; he was tall with high cheekbones, a pipe clutched between his teeth, and wild hair which stuck up in distinctive spikes. 

"Oh," he breathed, looking between them, drinking in the sight. 

Arthur looked over at him in concern. "Ludwig, what is it?"

Ludwig swallowed, licking suddenly dry lips and taking one last good look at the photographs before he held them out, offering them to the other Nation. 

Arthur looked them over, and Ludwig could see the moment when he realised; it flushed over his face, made his eyes go wide. He looked breathless.

"This is... are you sure?" he asked, giving Ludwig a look that bordered on desperate, wild-eyed and pained.

How long had Arthur been dreaming of this moment?

"I think so," Ludwig replied. "There are names on the backs of the pictures. William De Vries, I think is his name. It's on both of them, and it's the same man. It has to be. And the photographs were taken nearly forty years apart. I can't see how it could be anything else."

Arthur couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the photographs. He reached out to touch one of them, smoothing his thumb over the face of the man, a face which hadn't aged a day between the photographs. 

Finally, he looked up and gave Ludwig a watery smile, a strained expression. Ludwig didn't comment on it. "I told you they were all called William."


	3. Chapter 3

"So," Ludwig began, looking down at the neatly copied list of addresses in his hand, "we have twenty-seven William Der Vries' in this area alone." he frowned, running his finger down the list. It was still rather daunting considering how many people with the name there could be in the country, but infinitely better than the thousands, _millions_ that they'd been faced with initially. He tapped one of the addresses thoughtfully with his finger. "But five of those are over forty so we can probably discount them."

"Which ones?" Arthur asked, looking up from the map of Amsterdam and the surrounding area that he had spread out across the floor of their hotel room. It was spotted with red dots where Arthur had marked off the locations of the addresses. Ludwig reeled off a few to him, and Arthur dutifully crossed them out. "Twenty-two now. Any others?"

"I'm not certain. The rest are within the correct age range."

"What about..." Arthur began, and then stopped, looking thoughtful. Ludwig didn't reply, letting him have space to think. Finally Arthur continued. "What about those who have children?" he asked slowly. "Maybe we could cross those off too, at least temporarily."

"We could, I suppose."

"Well, look at it this way," Arthur continued. "Would you want to have children, only to have to watch them grow up and fall prety to mortality?"

When he put it like that, it was a distressing though. Children were not something that Ludwig had ever considered. Perhaps Arthur had. It was a good idea though and Ludwig skimmed through the notes that he had made. "I only copied that information for a few of them," he said apologetically. "It wasn't available for all of them, and even then, it only mentions those whose children are still dependents. I could go back tomorrow and cross reference with birth certificates," he offered, although the thought of another day in that room with only papers for company filled him with dread.

Thankfully, Arthur seemed to feel the same, if the way he grimaced was any indication. "I'd rather spend more time knocking on doors, if it's all the same to you. At least then I don't end up with lungs coated in dust."

"Quite," Ludwig replied with some relief.

Arthur was silent for a moment, staring at the map blankly. "What are we actually going to do when we find him?" he asked quietly. He looked up, fixing Ludwig with an intent stare. "The two of us met by chance and fortune, and it suited us well enough. What if William, or any of the others, just don't want to be found?"

It was an unpleasant thought, and not one that Ludwig had really entertained, too caught up in the joy of finally not being alone after so many years. He couldn't imagine wanting to turn that down were it offered, but then, he did not know the hearts of other Nations. "Well, I suppose that we just... talk to them," he said uncertainly. "That cannot hurt, surely? The worst that they can do is say no."

"The worst they can do is declare was," Arthur replied, but there was a bite of humour in his voice once more. "But I suppose you're right."

\----------

Ludwig woke later that night, and his body told him that it was the early hours, two or three in the morning perhaps. The curtains were close tight, but there was a dim light coming from within the room, flickering and golden. He rolled over and opened his eyes a crack.

There was a candle set up on a saucer between the beds, casting light over the map which had once again been spread out on the floor. Most of Ludwig's attention however, was focussed on Arthur. The other Nation was knelt over the map, a look of intense concentration on his face. The shadows cast over it by the candlelight made him look eerie and inhuman.

He was holding a pendulum, a plain one with a metal bob on the end, lead or iron, such as you would find in the equipment of any workman. The string was coiled around Arthur's hand and it swung around in ever smaller circles, before honing in unnaturally on one spot. He was, Ludwig realised with a jolt, divining.

"Arthur?" he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Arthur started and the pendulum jerked, swinging erratically until it dangled uselessly from his hand. He gave Ludwig a wary, startled look, as though he was a child caught stealing from his mother's purse. "Ludwig. I thought you were asleep."

"I woke up," Ludwig replied. "What were you doing?" He thought that he knew, but he wanted to give Arthur a chance to explain. Perhaps he was completely wrong.

"I told you," Arthur said a little defensively. "I wanted to try divining and now that I have a face and a name to look for, I can, and it worked."

Ludwig frowned, looking uncomfortable. "Arthur... we cannot rely on supersticion for this. We need to look at it scientifically."

"It isn't supersticion," Arthur said sourly, his expression darkening. "It works. For me anyway. I know the right address now."

Was he truly serious? It seemed impossible to believe, but he did seem invested in the idea. "I hardly believe that a pendulum can find one address out of many," Ludwig said sharply.

"It's worked for me before," Arthur insisted.

"Pure coincidence," Ludwig said, a tone of finality in his voice. He couldn't quite believe that he was having this conversation with Arthur of all people. It was quite ridiculous!

"Think what you want," Arthur said coldly as he began to pack his things away. "We'll see tomorrow, won't we?"

Ludwig sighed softl and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "Do you really believe in it?" he asked sceptically. It seemed foolish to ask when Arthur had obviously been engaged in the practice, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe it.

"I wouldn't bother with it if I didn't."

"But why? You seem to be a rational man. Why waste time on practices like this?" He _wanted_ to understand. It just seemed at odds with other aspects of Arthur's personality.

Arthur went to perch on the edge of his bed, looking over at Ludwig calmly. "I'm an island of ghosts and faeries," he began, "and I'm very old. I've seen stranger things. Besides," he added with a wry smile, "we are creatures of the Earth. If it works for anyone at all, then it should be us."

"It isn't an easy thing to believe."

"Not for you perhaps," Arthur said. "You're built on industry and logic and Prussian militarism. I'm built on legends."

It was strange and perhaps a little uncomfortable hearing someone talk of him as a country rather than a person, but in another way, it felt _right_ as though Arthur knew him better than anyone else, even after such a short acquaintance. But then, Arthur was the same as him. it made sense.

"If you think that it will help, then we shall use it," he ground out reluctantly. "But I do insist that we visit the houses within Amsterdam before traveling further afield. It's more efficient."

That drew a wider smile from Arthur and he nodded. "Very efficient. I agree. But I still think that I'm right."

Ludwig rather hoped that he was wrong, just so that he didn't have to put up with Arthur gloating as he could somehow sense that he would.

\----------

There were five William Der Vries' within the area of the city itself, and Ludwig and Arthur managed to visit all of them the next day. One had moved since the sources that they used had been compiled. The others looked nothing like the man in the photograph. It meant that come the end of the day, with no successes, Ludwig was forced to buy two train tickets to for a nearby settlement for the next day.

Arthur looked positively gleeful.

He still seemed unnaturally cheerful when they caught the train the next day, and they spent much of the journey chatting amiably about trivial things; their favourite cities (Arthur claimed York, Ludwig, Bonn. He'd never quite felt at home in Berlin), or places that they would like to visit. Quiet, innocuous things that any pair of friends might discuss.

The village at which they finally disembarked was almost painfully rural, the kind of place that you would find on a postcard; one main street with a few shops, the glitter of canals, fields of crops and even a windmill turning in the near distance.

"This is very..." Ludwig began, not entirely certain of how to articulate it.

"Dutch," Arthur said without hesitation, "it's very Dutch."

"Yes, exactly," Ludwig agrees, brow crinkling in thought. "Is this because he is supposedly here? Does it make this place a centre of... of _Dutchness_?" he turned to face Arthur. "Your house is hardly a paragon of _Englishness_ ," he said, a fainly accusing note to his voice.

"No, but you did first meet me in a pub," Arthur replied easily, a devilish look in his eyes. "Can't get much more English than that."

"Then..." Ludwig said, looking more serious than ever.

Arthur laughed warmly, shaking his head. "No, I think it's complete chance to be honest." Ludwig gave him a disapproving frown and Arthur hurried to continue. "I mean, it's a small village, secluded, not too many people around to remember you after you move away. And it's very pretty. I can think of worse reasons to live somewhere."

Ludwig had to agree. As far as hiding places went, it was very picturesque.

The station was small enough that it didn't even have a ticket office, so they simply heading into the village and asked at the first shop, where they might find William Der Vries. The lady there seemes surprised that anyone would be looking for him.

"He's a bit of a recluse," she said conspiratorially. "Nice man, always happy for a chat, but I've never seen him invite anyone around." She would probably have continued talking about everyone in the village and their habits, if Ludwig hadn't thanked her and steered Arthur out of the shop.

William, who might possibly be the Netherlands, lived in a large house with an immaculately kept lawn and spotless windows, at the other end of the village.

"Impressive," Ludwig said in an undertone, a touch of admiration in his voice at seeing such a well-kept house. His own was neat, but that was a clinical neatness because he prized order. This was something more homely, a pride in a neat house. 

He missed the way that Arthur rolled his eyes.

"This is it then," Arthur said, staring at the front door (perfectly painted) with some trepidation.

"Only if you are correct," Ludwig replied, although even he couldn't deny the nervous flutter in his stomach. "We should go and knock on the door," he added.

Arthur nodded in agreement, but neither of them made any attempt to move.

"Oi! Are you going to loiter all day?" Their choice was made for them at the irritated shout which reached them. They looked up to see that the door had been thrown open and there, on the step, a cigarette between his lips, was the man from the photographs. 

Ludwig and Arthur just stared, for long enough that the man made a noise of disgust and shut the door with a loud bang. 

They looked at each other.

Arthur smiled. "I was right."

"Coincidence," Ludwig replied with a soft growl, although his attention was more on the door than on Arthur's teasing. "We should..."

"Yes," Arthur agreed.

They headed up the neat little path and, after a moment's hesitation, Ludwig rapped loudly on the door. It was pulled open sharply and the man (the _country_ ) stood there, eyes narrowed as he looked at them.

"You need something?" he asked bluntly. "I don't remember sending any invitations."

"Ah..." Ludwig began awkwardly. "We are he-"

"We're looking for the Kingdom of the Netherlands," Arthur said bluntly, cutting Ludwig off.

There was a flicker in the man's eyes for a second, then he gave a derisive snort. "Did you miss the border or something?"

Arthur sighed and it was left to Ludwig to continue. He looked around surreptitiously before speaking. This was hardly something that he wanted the entire population to be party to. "You are the Netherlands, are you not?" he asked. "The personification of the kingdom and land itself."

William gave them a guarded look. "Who wants to know? You sound like lunatics."

Ludwig had to admit that he had a point. If Ludwig didn't know what he was, he would think much the same. Still, they had said it now. "I am Ludwig Beilschmidt," he began, and then met the man's eyes squarely, trying to convey his conviction. "I am _Germany_." 

All of the colour drained from William's face. He just stared, eyes wide with shock. He seemed to regain himself after a few moments, then gave Arthur a hard look. "What about _you_?"

Arthur inclined his head politely. "Arthur Kirkland. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Or just England. Less formal." He made it sound as though it was an introduction that he used every day, rather than revealing his state of being to a stranger, one who, if they had miscalculated, would think that they were mad.

William frowned and then took a step back, holding the door open for them. "I think that you had better come inside."

The inside of the house was just as neat as the outside, warm and welcoming, and William led them to a comfortable sitting room, with plush couches and a large fireplace. He left them in awkward silence for several minutes while he bustled around the kitchen, finally bringing out a pot of coffee and a selection of pastries, which he set down on the table between them. 

Being served food and drinks was not exactly how Ludwig had pictured this meeting going. He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected, but this certainly wasn't it. It was all very _civilised_.

William drank his coffee black like Ludwig did, while Arthur loaded his with cream and two sugars and he sipped it quietly while they waited for someone to break the awkward silence.

"How do I know you are what you say you are?" William asked finally after giving them both a hard look.

"Well, I could cut my throat to show that I'll survive, but it would ruin your carpet," Arthur said with a devilish smile. Ludwig forced down the urge to groan, certain that the serious man would throw them out of the house for mocking him. "It isn't exactly an everyday claim," Arthur added more seriously. "Why would we go around telling random people about it? Madmen usually at least try to convince people of high standing in the government or in the newspapers."

William smirked and set down his cup, before leaning forward eagerly. "You have that right. And I admit, I do want to believe you. Always kind of thought I was alone."

Ludwig nodded seriously, not taking this conversation half as lightly as Arthur seemed to be. He could remember thinking the same thing many times before, wondering whether he was some being cursed by God. From the way that Arthur looked, lips drawn into a tight line, he felt the same. "I believed so as well. I have been alone for as long as I can remember."

"Both of us," Arthur added. "I'm sick of being alone and watching everyone I know die around me. So we thought that we would try to find others like us. It seemed ridiculous that there would be only two in a world with so many nations." It was very blunt, the way that he spoke, but there was a note to Arthur's voice which rang with truth.

"Say this is true," William said, "how did you find me?" He looked aside, away from the two of them, holding his cup close to his mouth. "I hardly believe that you could just hone in on me. If we could do that, we would have found each other centuries ago." He smiled and it was a thoroughly unhappy expression. "Seems cruel though, that we would be put on Earth to live our lives in isolation."

"We researched," Ludwig said, and from his pocket he drew out the neatly folded photographs. He felt rather bad about taking them from the records office, but the boxes that he had found them in had been coated with grime and dust and obviously had not been opened for years.

William took them and and looked them over for a long time before he smiled wistfully. "And here I thought that I'd been so careful," he said. "Still, if this is the result, maybe I should stop trying to hide so much." 

"I'm certain that anyone stumbling across them would have just dismissed it as coincidence," Ludwig said apologetically. William didn't seem upset, quite the opposite, but what if he really had been trying to hide?

William didn't respond, but stroked his fingertips over the older of the photographs, the one taken in Java, lightly. "These men are all dead now, you know?" he said quietly. "Couple of 'em died of disease in Java, few more were caught in war or by the influenza the last couple of years. Horrible stuff. The remaining ones... well, thought about going to visit them, then realised that years had passes and I didn't look a day older." 

He passed the photograph back and Ludwig could only stare for a moment, feeling a little as though he'd been punched in the gut. He _understood_ , truly he did. if there had been any doubt that this man was one of them, it had evaporated in that instant. 

William shook his head. "I believe you, god help me but I do. Perhaps I'm a damn fool, but..." He gave a helpless smile. "Ah, if it isn't good to meet you." He stood up suddenly, sweeping down into a formal bow. "William Der Vries and I am the Kingdom of the Netherlands."  
\----------  
"Where _are_ you thinking of heading next?" William asked in between sips of fragrant coffee. 

The café was a fashionable place in the heart of Amsterdam, frequented by politicians and journalists, and William seemed to be a regular with how the staff greeted him. It was always bustling with people, and filled with chatter and gossip about anything and everything. The drinks and food that they served were excellent and it had become their habitual meeting place in the months that they had spent in the Netherlands. Ludwig at least, had become rather fond of it, the relaxed atmosphere. He would miss it when they left.

"Unless, of course," William added with a smug smile, leaning forward slightly, "you were only interested in meeting the Kingdom of the Netherlands. Can't blame you. Fabulous man."

Arthur rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "And he has an ego big enough for an entire continent," he said before pouring himself another cup of tea from an elegant china teapot. Even Ludwig had to smile a little. It was strange how little time it had taken for this easy camaraderie to build, but now it felt as though they had known each other for centuries.

"Well, I can't help it if I'm just that good!" William protested.

_I'm just that good, so don't worry!_

The thought hit him without warning, and for a moment, he could almost hear the voice behind it, as though it had been lurking there in the back of his mind. He should know it, it was right there, almost on the tip of his tongue, but just frustratingly out of reach. A name, a face... it was _so close_.

"Ludwig?" Arthur asked curiously, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

Ludwig blinked, shaking the strange thoughts away and looking up sharply at Arthur. He wasn't sure where that could have come from. How strange. "Ah?"

"You looked as though you'd drifted off," Arthur said, amusement clear in his voice once he was certain that Ludwig was alright. "It isn't like you."

Ludwig had the grace to look abashed. "My apologies. Lost in thought, I suppose." Although what that thought had been, he wasn't entirely certain. It had come out of seemingly nowhere, and now that he tried to grasp it, it slipped away from him.

Arthur gave him a puzzled look that Ludwig could only shrug in response to, and then Arthur turned his attention back to William, focussing on the situation at hand. "We hadn't really thought beyond getting here and finding you," he admitted. "For all we knew, we were the only ones, or every other Nation was hiding deliberately. It seemed foolish to plan further ahead."

"I wish I could help you more," William said, "but I can't claim to have met anyone like us, not knowingly." He took a long drag on his pipe, then exhaled, the smoke drifting up towards the ceiling. He looked wistful. It was an emotion that Ludwig could relate to; all of that time spent alone when there had been others around. "But you should have a planned route. Plenty of places that it would be better to avoid at the moment."

Ludwig grimaced at that. He could certainly think of a few. "I know that we shall avoid Russia for now," he said seriously. "Too much upheaval and instability. For myself, I would rather avoid France as well.” The memories were too close still, and he couldn't help but wonder if France wore the scars of the trenches on his own body.

Arthur covered up Ludwig's obvious discomfort with a brazen laugh. "Who cares about going there anyway? The last person that _I_ want to meet is a frog!"

William didn't seem particularly convinced if the smirk on his lips was any indication, but he nodded, looking thoughtful. "Might be as well trying up north then, Scandinavia," he said. "None of 'em really cared to get involved in this last mess and I can't fault them for it. I can give you the name of a good guest house in Copenhagen too. I use it sometimes when I'm trading up there."

Ludwig gave an approving nod at the idea. "It would certainly be one way of avoiding animosity, yes, at least for the time being." He hardly expected things to be swept beneath the rug, just because the personifications of nations had met. There was so much animosity between countries that could not be forgotten about.

"It can't do any harm," Arthur agreed, "and Denmark is relatively small too. Makes the research easier," he added with a slightly sheepish expression.

William laughed. "It's settled then. I'll get you details of ships sailing within the next few days." He fell silent and took a long drag on his pipe. "It'll be strange, going back to normal life on my own now. Feels like I'm missing out somehow."

Arthur glanced over at Ludwig for a second, and it was obvious what he was going to say even before he said it. It made something in Ludwig's chest clench to think about it, for reasons he couldn't fathom, but he kept his mouth shut because it was irrational and he had always prided himself on his rationality.

"You could always come with us," Arthur said to William, as easily as though he were inviting William to take tea.

Interest settled on William's face for a moment before he gave a lopsided smile and shook his head. "It's tempting, don't misunderstand me," he said, and the reluctance in his voice was clear, "but I've got a life here, one that I'm content with for now. Nothing to escape from." The implication was clear, and Ludwig's brow furrowed in irritation. "Besides," William added mischievously, "three's a crowd."

"O-oi!" Arthur sputtered, his face turning red. 

For his part, Ludwig narrowed his eyes at their companion. "Making such accusations in public!" he protested, sounding thoroughly appalled by the very thought. "Our travels have only the motives that we have set before you. It is nothing so crass." He made the whole affair sound sordid, as though he and Arthur were an eloping couple! 

William held up his hands in surrender but hsi expression was entirely unapologetic. "Didn't mean anything by it." The amusement playing about his lips suggested otherwise.

"Of course not," Ludwig replied, switching to bland politeness. He did not want to create more of a scene than William had instigated already. It just made William smile more widely.

"I do hope that you'll keep me informed though," William said, becoming more serious. "I'd like to know what my neighbours are like. Perhaps I could even meet them eventually." 

"We'll send telegrams," Arthur offered quickly, his embarrassment quickly forgotten.

"I'd appreciate it," William said. "The telephone system hasn't reached the village yet." He gave them a regretful look. He did sound grateful and it made Ludwig feel guilty for his earlier uncharitable thoughts. Perhaps it was not so strange for William to mistake the camaraderie between Ludwig and Arthur for something more. There had been a huge sense of relief at finding each other after all, of finally knowing that they weren't alone. 

"Of course we shall," Ludwig said with a curt nod.

"Glad to hear it," William said, and this time his smile was not so teasing. He took another drag of his pipe and watched the smoke for a moment before fixing them with an accusatory gaze. "You've changed everything. I'm not losing track of you now."

The tone of it made Ludwig shift uncomfortably. It was a joke, or he hoped it was. It was difficult to tell with William. But there was that thread of doubt in his mind, the niggle that could not be quieted. They had done something, him and Arthur, put a face to a Nation, made a _friend_ of a Nation, and there was a part of himself which screamed for him to run and not look back.

Arthur didn't seem to feel the same, or he gave no outward sign of it, his inner thoughts inscrutable. "I'm certain that things will stay much the same as they have done for centuries," Arthur said with a dismissive shrug. 

Ludwig gave him a sideways look, caught William giving him a similarly sceptical one. Did Arthur really believe that that was possible? Ludwig rather wished that he could feel such bravado.

William smirked and tapped out his pipe into the ash tray in the centre of the table. "If you say so," he replied wryly. 

"I do say so," Arthur said with confidence. He glanced at Ludwig, grinning, and that seemed to be enough right then to make Ludwig believe it. Or at least to believe that the benefits outweighed the downsides. 

"Heh, just what I'd expect from the British Empire," William said, "thinking you can move the world without any consequences."

Arthur laughed and Ludwig couldn't help but wince at the reminder. They were friends now, but it had been so little time since he and Arthur had been at war and Ludwig had hardly come off better in that fight. "Now," he said awkwardly, "we're supposed to be friends here." Part of him rankled at being the weaker party. Mediation did not suit him.

They both looked straight at him, and it made him want the seat to swallow him. Those gazes... they were old, very old, and Ludwig couldn't help but feel a little like a child in comparison, just for a moment. He drew himself up though, squared his shoulders and gave a hard look back. "It's all hypothetical," he said roughly, trying to convince himself as much as them. "We do not know what the future will bring, but at least we know that we are not the only ones living lives like these." And maybe that was enough for now.

The two of them looked a little abashed, and it looked odd on the faces of two such confident nations, but Ludwig was hardly going to point that out. 

"Yes, you're quite right of course," Arthur said quietly, and William nodded his agreement. 

"Then, William," Ludwig began, trying to get the conversation back to more comfortable topics than the changing of the world, "please, tell us about Copenhagen."

\----------

William met them at the docks two days later, and presented them with tickets for the ship that they would be boarding. It seemed as though he had friends everywhere, connections with merchants and traders across the globe, built up through years of work, and he had managed to find them passage on a small liner heading towards the Baltic via Copenhagen.

"Here," he said as he held out the tickets. "A gift," he added when both Ludwig and Arthur looked ready to protest.

"Are you certain?" Arthur asked, taking the tickets as though they were made of gold leaf.

William nodded. "I wouldn't offer if I weren't," he said, giving Arthur a lopsided smile. "Don't question Dutch gratitude," he added with a mock-warning tone. "It's hard to earn."

"We are _very_ grateful," Ludwig said with genuine feeling, "for everything that you have done for us." The words sounded awkward and uncomfortable to his ears, but were heartfelt. Just finding him had somehow made this entire mad quest worthwhile.

William held out his hand and Ludwig took it, giving a firm handshake. "You both did the work, so thank you." He shook Arthur's hand too, and then leaned his face close to Arthur's ear and whispered something which made thew other Nation scowl and pull away quickly, his face flushed. William smirked and clapped him on the shoulder, before nudging him in the direction of their ship. "You'll miss it if you linger with me anymore, although if you've changed your mind, my offer stands."

Ludwig gave him a confused look which William shrugged off. "Thank you again for your hospitality," he said awkwardly. Arthur murmured his thanks as well and grabbed his trunk, heading quickly towards the ship. Ludwig gave him a helpless look and after one last, apologetic nod to William, followed after him.

He caught up with Arthur as he boarded the ship, directing a porter to take his luggage to their cabin. He started when Ludwig touched his arm lightly.

"A-ah, sorry, Ludwig. Didn't realise that it was you."

Ludwig frowned, concerned at how Arthur had positively bolted from William. "What did he say to you?" he asked bluntly. There was no point in making things needlessly complicated.

Arthur huffed in irriation, folding his arms across his chest defensively. "It was nothing serious," he insisted. "Just a product of William's perverted imagination."

Oh. That seemed a very small thing to get Arthur so worked up, even if William did have a habit of saying things which were embarrassing, but then again, Ludwig hadn't seen Arthur in this manner of situation before. Still, his curiosity was piqued. "If he insulted you..." he began, not entirely certain how he intended to end that sentence.

Arthur shook his head and the smile he gave Ludwig was awkward and embarrassed, but hardly upset. "He said that if England ever needed to enter a personal union again, he would be quite happy to have me in the um... marital bed." Arthur's cheeks were bright red.

"Oh," Ludwig said, and then " _Oh_." He hadn't thought about treaties in those terms before. It made him uncomfortable to consider it. "He doesn't expect...?"

England gave a derisive laugh and shook his head. "I doubt it. he was just being an arse." He flashed Ludwig a grin and quickly headed after the porter, leaving Ludwig baffled at Arthur's mercurial moods.

When Ludwig reached the cabin, Arthur had settled himself at the small writing desk in one corner of the room, and had pulled out a thick, leather-bound journal, laying it open on the table to a page that was half filled with Arthur's own elegant scrawl.

Ludwig peered over Arthur's shoulder at it curiously. He hadn't seen the book before. Arthur made no move to drive him away or hide the contents so Ludwig assumed that it could not be anything too intimate. 

The page, he realised, was headed with a name, one that he recognised. 'William de Vries - The Kingdom of the Netherlands'.

"Is this...?" he asked, reaching down to press his fingers against the paper, tracing over the words.

Arthur did not look up at him. He was still rooting through his satchel from which he pulled out an expensive looking fountain pen and bottle of ink. Only when he had everything set out to his liking did he reply. "Notes, yes," he said. "About our kind. There's no sense in finding others and then losing them again because we misplaced some information."

"Of course not," Ludwig agreed, finding the idea of the book seeming comforting, as though having it all there in black and white, ink and paper, made everything that bit more real.

"There are pages for each of us," Arthur continued, flipping back through the book to show Ludwig a page marked with his own name. "And I thought that once we got back to England, we could develop the photographs and put them in as well."

"You've thought this through," Ludwig said, rather impressed and cursing himself for not thinking of it first. He had his own travel journal too, of course, but it didn't have the wealth of information that Arthur had acquired; descriptions of appearance and habits, names and known dates. 

"It has been weighing on my mind for a while," Arthur admitted. "Since the battlefield that day even." He unscrewed the cap of the ink bottle, pen hovering just above it. "All the things that I could do if I could meet others like me. I just don't want the opportunity to slip away."

Arthur carefully added a few more details to William's page, before turning to the next clean one. In neat writing, and underlined, he wrote a single word, 'Denmark'.


	4. Chapter 4

It was strange to see Arthur looking around himself with such undisguised curiosity, especially when as far as Ludwig could see, it was just another port, much like any other in Europe. Pretty perhaps, but nothing that held Ludwig's attention quite so much. Arthur on the other hand kept commenting on things as though they were fascinating new discoveries, and he spoke with authority on matters relating to the docks and ships that they passed. While it was... endearing, in a way, to see the other Nation in his element, Ludwig found himself hard pressed to find the minutiae of knot work or sail rigging fascinating.

To that end, he found himself following quietly after Arthur, listening absently as he ramble, and feeling a little like a young pup following its new master. The comparison rankled at his pride enough that he hastened his pace, forcing Arthur to hurry to keep up with him, at least until they left the ocean behind and entered the bustling streets of Copenhagen.

William's directions were as near and precise as his home had been, and it didn't take them long to find the place. A neat little guest house, painted blue with white trim, a few streets from the waterfront. At least it wouldn't smell like fish whenever he opened the window, Ludwig mused. It looked very homely and Ludwig could see why William would recommend it. He half expected to see a freshly baked pie cooling on the window ledge.

"This seems adequate, no?" he said, dropping his trunk for a moment and flexing his fingers to work the stiffness from them. Admittedly, Ludwig would be happy as long as it was not a hovel; he was usually content to live simply.

Arthur though was silent, and when Ludwig looked over at him, he had an expression that could only be described as a grimace on his lips. Ludwig frowned, not entirely certain what had so displeased his companion. "Is something wrong, Arthur?"

Arthur glanced over at him, that look still on his face. "It's a bit... compact, isn't it?"

"Compact?" Ludwig echoed, a little confused.

"I was expecting something larger," Arthur admitted. "It looks barely big enough for two people to live in, let alone to run a guest house out of!" He sighed and ran a hand through his always untidy hair. "We'll be living in the lap of whoever runs this place. Somewhere with a little more privacy would have been nice."

"We are hardly doing anything illicit," Ludwig said, and now he was really confused. Admittedly, Arthur's house in England had been large, but he hadn't expected such a reaction.

Arthur scowled and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest huffily. "I didn't mean it like that," he protested. "Just... I like my space, and in there there's probably some plump old lady waiting to smother us every second that we're there and we'll never get a moment's peace." He paused, looking over at the house again. "She probably has a cat. It'll be called Mr Tibble and rules her life with an iron paw."

Ludwig could only stare for a moment after the outburst, blinking incredulously, before a slow smile quirked his lips. "You're scared of an overbearing housefrau?" he said teasingly, and that touch of rare amusement from him was certainly enough to grab Arthur's attention. From Ludwig, it was as good as a full-blown attack of the giggles.

"I am hardly scared. I just have my pride!"

"Pride insecure enough to be damaged so easily?" Ludwig continued, still smiling. "From the great British Empire of all people? If I'd known that I would have held out for longer." Arthur went very still suddenly and Ludwig's smile slowly faded. "Arthur?"

"At least the British Empire still exists," Arthur said, his playful scowl twisted into something darker, more than was warranted for gentle teasing. Ludwig's face fell at the sight, but Arthur gave him no time to protest before he had grabbed his trunk and climbed up the stairs to the house.

Ludwig stood there for several moments, torn between confusion and a sharp thread of hurt. He wasn't sure why that comment had upset Arthur so much, but the jab about his own fallen empire, the humiliation as it was all stripped from him... His hands clenched into fists at his side, nails digging into his palms as he remembered the speeches and denunciations, the Allies sucking him dry. He'd watched it all, felt it all. And that was perhaps the terrible thing about being a Nation; what was said against the country was _personal_. For the first time, it felt as though Arthur was truly one of those who had twisted the knife into his body.

He finally gathered himself enough to pick up his trunk and enter the building, forcing himself to focus on the practicalities. He could think about Arthur later, and he would be reasonable. They were both tried from the trip after all. That was all.

The woman at the desk inside practically cowered when he entered the guests house, and despite his assertions to the contrary, he was hard pressed to lighten his dark expression and reign in some of his anger. He offered her a somewhat forced smile which did not meet his eyes and did little to reassure her. "My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt," he began, his tone unintentionally harsh. "I believe that there is a reservation."

The woman, and she _was_ rather plump and matronly, although Ludwig couldn't find the humour in the situation anymore, gave him a suspicious look. "Mr Kirkland said that you would be arriving." She didn't sound particularly approving and Ludwig wondered what Arthur had said to her, remembering uncharitably the British propaganda during the war.

She dropped a key onto the desk in front of him, and continued speaking in a clipped tone. "Your room is on the second floor. Breakfast is from seven until nine and the door is locked at eleven pm sharp. After that, if you don't have your key, you'll be locked out."

"Thankyou," Ludwig managed to grind out, forcing politeness despite the woman's rude demeanour and the still simmering anger that she was feeding. "What room is Ar- ah, Mr Kirkland in?"

The woman looking at him critically for a moment before responding. He didn't like the feeling that he was being disapproved of. He was _Germany_! He was a nation with a long and noble history! He was not disapproved of by a landlady!

"My thanks," he said, still perfectly polite, and then headed up the stairs.

The door to Arthur's room was firmly shut when he reached the top of the stairs. Ludwig considered knocking, but stopped himself, hand upraised, remembering the harsh words on Arthur's lips and the shame heaped upon his people after the war. He... he hadn't deserved them, the words at least, and he hadn't been in a position to oppose the reparations.

He let his hand fall and took his trunk into his own room. It was small and old-fashioned, but the bed was large enough for him at least, and there was a wardrobe and a small chest of drawers. Yes, it would do he supposed, even if he found himself suddenly homesick for his own house.

He unpacked methodically, assuming that they would be staying for several days at least, hanging up his shirts and trousers in the wardrobe. Some of them needed pressing, and he focussed on that small, controllable annoyance instead of the presence in the next room. He wondered if there was a housemaid that he could pay to press them.

The knock on the door that he had been subconsciously waiting for never came.

\----------

_They're following him, he's sure. He's running and running as fast as his young legs will carry him, crashing through underbrush and foliage, the nettles leaving scalding marks across his skin. He's leaving a trail, but he knows he can't stop, there no time to hide it even if he could think through the tears and snot and the smoke in his lungs._

_He stumbles, an exposed root catching on his foot, sending him crashing to the ground and all that he can do is lie there, gasping and wheezing, his knees and elbows bleeding, tears streaking his cheeks._

_And then he hears footsteps, shouts of rage and he doesn't understand why they're so angry! He drags himself up clumsily, glances back fearfully over his shoulder and then starts to run again._

It was the bang against his window that woke Ludwig, dragging him out of the pain of half-remembered dreams. Ludwig sat up, rubbing a hand groggily over his face. Now that he tried to remember, the dream flitted away from him, leaving only disquiet in its wake. The sound wasn't the romantic tap of a paramour flinging a pebble either, more like a hooligan hurling a clod of earth. 

He dragged himself out of bed and pulled open the curtains only to find that that was exactly the case. Damp earth and blades of grass were smeared across the window and windowsill. He bristled at the sight and drew himself up to his full height, ready to give the young ruffian who had done this a good tongue lashing for being so immature.

When he opened the window and looked down into the garden however, he could only stare.

"Arthur?" he finally managed to get out, his eyes widening as he regarded the dishevelled man. 

Arthur snorted and folded his arms across his chest. His tie was missing, and his shirt was half open. A lit cigarette dangled from between his lips. "Well, I'm not sodding Jesus am I?"

Ge was drunk, Ludwig realised with a start, the slight slur to his words giving him away.

"Well," Arthur said with some annoyance, "are you going to let me in?"

Ludwig moved to reach for his key, only to pause, eyes narrowing at the other Nation. He was still upset about the argument earlier. "You have a key," he said harshly.

Arthur shrugged, a fluid gesture which was at odds with his usual stiff demeanour. "Left it inside." He said it so casually that it made Ludwig growl and for a moment, that nasty, petty part of himself told him to shut the curtains and close the window and go back to bed, leave Arthur to suffer the results of his foolishness. It would be a thoroughly unsatisfying revenge, but it would be something.

Then he sighed and grabbed his key, his desire for order and peace winning out over his desire to see Arthur suffer in small ways. "I will be at the front door in a second." It was only because it would be irritating to have to get him out of gaol if he were arrested, Ludwig told himself, nothing more. He took his time even so, creeping carefully along the hallway so as not to wake any of the other patrons of the guest house.

The stairs creaked horribly, but he didn't hear any sounds of movement upstairs, so he went over to the door and managed to unlock it and throw back the bolt without making too much noise.

Arthur practically fell into his arms when the door was opened, making Ludwig stumble back to keep him from falling flat on his face, even if it would serve him right. He felt almost feverishly hot against Ludwig's body, pressed flush up against his chest, head against his shoulder. He snickered softly and his breath stank of alcohol and it made Ludwig grimace.

"You've been drinking," Ludwig said disapprovingly, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the way Arthur looked with the alcohol flush on his cheeks. He shifted Arthur so that he was no longer awkwardly pressed up against Ludwig's chest.

Arthur snorted and then gave a wide yawn. "Doesn't take a genius to work that out." He slid out of Ludwig's grasp, heading for the stairs and Ludwig hurried after him, ready to support him. He was going to break his neck, Ludwig was sure. He'd never seen Arthur this drunk before! A little tipsy perhaps, but not loud and sarcastic like this. And all it had taken was one teasing comment about the state of his empire. 

Arthur stumbled on the second stair, and he clung gratefully to Ludwig's proffered arm, his fingers gripping tightly enough that Ludwig thought he might have bruises. Stronger than a person of his stature should be able to grip, but he wasn't a person, Ludwig reminded himself sternly. He was _England_. Together they made their way upstairs, managing to negotiate them and the hallway without too much incident.

"You didn't lock the door," Ludwig said reproachfully when they entered Arthur's room. Admittedly, he was glad that he didn't have to try to fish the key out of Arthur's pocket, but it seemed unlike the older man to be so remiss.

"Forgot," Arthur said dismissively. "Didn't seem important." He perched on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little, and then lay back, sprawling untidily. 

Ludwig grimaced. "Please take your boots off," he said with some exasperation. He was going to smear mood on the linen if he wasn't careful and the thought of the mess made him cringe.

Arthur grumbled but complied, leaning over to unfasten the boots and dropping them onto the floor at Ludwig's feet. 

"I did not expect this of you Arthur," Ludwig murmured, unable to resist saying something, although some of the things that he wanted to say were cruel and despite his anger, he didn't want to make things worse.

Arthur grinned, an arrogant expression. "Got to have a few surprises, especially empires."

Ludwig gave him a displeased look. "You're acting like a child, not an empire."

"I like being drunk!" Arthur protested as Ludwig leaned over to unfasten his shirt. He had horrible visions of Arthur managing to throttle himself during the night with his own clothing. The other man squirmed beneath his hands, and the high alcohol flush on his cheeks, the way his eyes were half lidded and hazy, made it seem positively obscene. As soon as he was done, ludwig pulled away as though burned.

He sighed and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, staring down at his companion. "I'm sure that you do," he muttered, wishing that he could have a mug of beer himself to help him cope with this. "The landlady seems to dislike me already so I would appreciate it if you would keep your drunkenness to yourself." 

"You aren't my boss."

"I'm the one who isn't acting like a five year old," Ludwig snapped, a hint of a snarl to his voice that hadn't been heard since the days in the trenches. He clenches his fists, trying to stop himself from doing something drastically. Part of him wanted to shake Arthur until he saw sense. The rest of him just wanted to go back to bed and pretend that tonight had never happened.

Arthur huffed, looking for all the world like the petulant child that Ludwig had claimed him to be. He glared for a moment before rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. "My head is spinning."

Ludwig rolled his eyes and dragged the covers up over Arthur in an act of charity that Arthur really didn't deserve. "That is what happens when you drink to excess," he said. Under normal circumstances, he would not have objected quite so much; he was fond of his own beer halls after all, but he hated being embarrassed.

"I'll check on you in the morning," he said grudgingly, as he headed towards the door. He heard Arthur shift and glanced back to see the other man peering at him.

"O-oi," Arthur said, refusing to meet Ludwig's eyes.

"What is it?"

"Thankyou."

Ludwig couldn't completely hide his surprise, but he gave a tired nod then closed the door and went back to bed.

\----------

Ludwig slept dreamlessly for the rest of the night, and despite the interrupted sleep, woke early the next morning and headed down for breakfast in the sunny little dining room at the front of the house.

Arthur joined him late, looking pale and ill, but he was dressed in a particularly smart suit, his tie perfectly position and his shoes shined. There was no sign of the sarcastic arrogant man of the night before, as though he were trying to make up for what had happened with excessive neatness.

He sat down opposite Ludwig with the air of a doomed man and gave Ludwig's breakfast a somewhat nauseous look.

"Are you well this morning, Arthur?" Ludwig asked, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic sweetness.

Arthur glowered at him. Ludwig returned it with a smile and poured Arthur a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. Arthur grimaced but accepted the cup, curling his hands around it as he took a sip without adding any cream or sugar.

They remained in silence for several minute; Ludwig eating and Arthur drinking his coffee, until Arthur appeared a little healthier. He ordered a bowl of porridge from the kitchen and then turned his attention to Ludwig. he looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

"I wanted to apologise," he said, meeting Ludwig's gaze squarely. The words sounded as though he were having to grind them out from between gritted teeth. "I behaved poorly yesterday. I overreacted and it was wrong of me to put you in such a position. Our argument..." he trailed off for a moment before sighing and looking away. "it touched upon some things and, well, that isn't the point now. I am sorry."

Ludwig had not expected such a heartfelt apology, or _any_ apology for that matter. Not because he thought badly of Arthur, but because he knew how difficult it was as a country to apologise for something. Apparently it applied to Arthur as well, to their personal relationships. He smiled warmly at Arthur. "I accept your apology," he said. Arthur was making the effort and seemed genuine, and if they were to travel together for a long time, why would he make things uncomfortable?

Arthur looked a little taken aback by the easy acceptance, but he didn't protest it, and focussed instead on the porridge that had been brought over, loading it with cream and sugar. They both focussed on their meals for a while, until Ludwig cleared his throat to catch Arthur's attention.

"Did my joke really hurt so badly?" he asked seriously. The argument that had caused all of this had been such a small thing. He really couldn't understand it.

Arthur pursed his lips severely for a moment and then shrugged. "The situation is complicated at home when it comes to my imperial territories," he grudgingly admitted. "The war made many things complicated and even here, I cannot dissociate myself completely from them."

Ludwig nodded. He could not quite sympathise with Arthur's situation, not when he could feel the dull ache at the loss of some of his own territory that had been torn away from him and handed to others by the Allies, but he could understand indeed. Still, what Arthur said had stung. Ludwig leaned back, arms folded over his chest. "It isn't just you who has lost something," he pointed out, trying to keep the bitterness that his people felt out of his voice. He wasn't entirely successful.

Arthur set down his spoon and looked away. "I know. We all lost too much." it wasn't quite what Ludwig meant, but he couldn't disagree either and he didn't want to ignite the flames of anger again. It was a little strange; he'd managed to live without such defensiveness of his land for many years. Perhaps it was natural and was just brought out by being around his own kind. Or perhaps he was just overreacting and this was something he would just have to adjust to.

"We should concentrate on what we came to do," he said instead, trying to get the conversation onto a more pleasing track.

"You're right," Arthur agreed, looking as relieved as Ludwig felt. "We've coped so far. It would be an embarrassment to give up after finding only one person. I doubt that William would let us live it down."

Ludwig scowled. "I don't particularly care what William thinks of it," he said grumpily, because it was entirely too easy for him to imagine how William would act. It didn't bear thinking about.

Arthur smirked in amusement. "Now who sounds like a petulant five year old?" he said archly.

Ludwig snorted, a little surprised that Arthur even remembered that comment, considering how drunk he had seemed last night. "I'm right though. You were the one that William was making squirm and blush with lewd comments."

"Our countries were once ruled by the same king. That has something to do with that."

Ludwig nodded in agreement, wondering if lingering historical sentiment could really be the reason. Could it really affect them in such a way? It chilled him to consider that his thoughts might not be entirely his own and he just hadn't noticed it until now.

He shoved those worries aside firmly. It was ridiculous, of course.

"We should head into the city," he suggested instead, now that Arthur was looking a little less green. 

"You're right," Arthur agreed. "And I'm so eager to spend time in another dusty records office," he added dryly.

\----------

It was a bright, clear day when Ludwig and Arthur finally stepped outside, and the water in the harbour glittered in the sun. It was warm, but a cool breeze whipped in across the water, bringing the scent of sea-salt into the city. The pleasant weather made their walk into the heart of the city rather more leisurely than either of them had intended it to be, with numerous stops to admire the sights, enough that it was nearly noon when they found the town hall and records office.

"You seem... happy here, Arthur," Ludwig said as they climbed the stairs to the entrance. He had been watching him as they walked, and it seemed a little out of character. He hadn't shown quite so much enthusiasm when they'd been in Amsterdam. Not that he was complaining. It was good to see Arthur looking happy.

Arthur gave him an odd look. "I helped to near destroy Copenhagen once," he said, and only the flatness of his voice gave any sign that he might feel guilt over the matter. "I'm rather glad to see it rebuilt so well, although I should expect it after a century or so."

An awkward look skittered across Ludwig's face and he looked away, remembering too well the fields of Belgium and France scarred with trenches, sights that would never be erased from his memory. Sights that he doubted he could face so easily as Arthur was facing this. It left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. 

"Would you forgive a Nation if they levelled a city of yours? Your capital?" he asked solemnly, suddenly needing an answer for the morbid thought.

There was silence for a moment and then "I've never really thought about it." Arthur pushed open the door of the town hall, and apart from the pause, he spoke as easily as though it had been a question about the weather. "I don't know anyone well enough to know, I suppose. It's different when you have a name and a face. Why do you ask?"

Ludwig bit back the response that was on the tip of his tongue; didn't Arthur know him well enough? Or were so many months like the passing of minutes to people like them? He forced down the flash of hurt that the thought raised in him.

He shrugged instead of speaking and followed Arthur inside, closing the door carefully behind himself. "I suppose I just wonder what problems we might encounter if we ever make our way to Belgium or France," he said, and it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't his entire reason either. 

Arthur looked away, and for the second before he turned, Ludwig thought that he saw something akin to regret there. It was gone when he turned back however, and Ludwig had to wonder if he had really seen it. "If I hated every country that I'd been at war with, then I'd never have agreed to try and find them," Arthur said quietly. "I've fought against most of the world. That's a lot of countries to hate."

They weren't raw wounds though, Ludwig thought, nothing like France and Belgium must feel, but he let the comment pass. William had welcomed them after all, and history showed that the Netherlands and England had not always been on the best of terms.

At the reception, they were pointed towards the record office by a secretary, only to be told once they reached it, that they would have to book an appointment to see the archivist and could not be admitted without one. Even Arthur's claim to be from Oxford University, and the production of the papers, did not persuade the man that they spoke to, and they reluctantly had to agree to make an appointment for three days hence.

"They didn't exactly have people beating down the doors to rifle through their files," Arthur grumbled as they left. A day wasted because of bureaucracy.

"They have rules for a reason," Ludwig said reproachfully. "Perhaps they already had appointments," he suggested, "or they have a schedule to stick to."

Arthur snorted softly, shaking his head. "Sodding bureaucracy."

"It is necessary, otherwise there would be anarchy," Ludwig replied. And anarachy was never good for Nations. Power vacuums and civil wars were uncomfortable, or at least, his own had been. Unification was painful.

"It's difficult to be an anarchist when you're part of the established order of things," Arthur said, echoing Ludwig's thoughts so accurately. It made him smile, even if he wasn't entirely certain why.

"Perhaps we could take the time to look around," he suggested, and Arthur nodded his agreement.

"Lunch, then?"

They eschewed a restaurant in favour of something a street vendor called a smorgasbord; a large open sandwich monstrosity that was only conquered through the application of Prussian discipline. Arthur gave up on the battle halfway through and laughed when Ludwig struggled to finish the last few bites. 

"We're going to be overrun by maps at this rate," Arthur said, after a fruitful visit to a bookshop yielded a map of the city. 

"We could always have them framed as mementos," Ludwig began, and then had to hide his discomfort at the unintentional 'we', while Arthur walked on oblivious. Ludwig was obviously reading far too much into the slip of the tongue.

The city was thriving and lively, and they followed a path through it at random, exploring side-streets and squares. Eventually though, they found themselves outside a gated park, over the wall of which, they could see a Ferris wheel and the wooden frames of roller coasters rising into the air, accompanied by lively music which drifted towards them.

"Oh, I've heard of this!" Arthur said with a touch of excitement as they regarded the place.

"Oh?" Ludwig asked, raising an eyebrow at his companion. "I confess that my knowledge of such amusements is limited."

Arthur flushed slightly, a pleasing pink colour, and Ludwig's brain ground to a halt for a moment as he tried to work out where that thought had come from. He shook his head after a moment, focussing on Arthur and what he was saying.

"They have a theatre," Arthur explained. "I like to pay attention to the theatre, ever since Will was writing."

That was something new to Ludwig. They had not attended the theatre while in Britain, too caught up in planning and organising their trip, and Arthur had mentioned it only in passing. Ludwig almost felt as though he were being unfair, hoarding this information while offering, in his mind, little in return. So much of his life had been taken up with official work. "Will? A friend of yours?"

"William," Arthur said, and then added "Shakespeare." He smirked when Ludwig's eyes went very wide.

"You knew him?" Ludwig asked incredulously, and it earned them both a few strange looks from the people around them, enough that he ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. 

"I knew him," Arthur agreed, as he started to walk towards the less crowded streets. Ludwig was grateful for the move; it took them out of the way of most prying eyes. "Of course, he was just a humble playwright then, not the Immortal Bard."

"That's... impressive," Ludwig said with genuine feeling. What must it have been like to know the man and see his legend grow over the centuries?

"You've had your own greats," Arthur said. "Martin Luther and some of your philosophers. Frederick the Second. I saw him in battle once."

"Yes but I... I never met them," Ludwig said awkwardly. He felt as though he'd missed something. "Most of them were long before my time."

It was Arthur's turn to look incredulous. "What? But... but you're _Germany_!" Once again, people turned to stare at them, and Ludwig wished that the ground would open up and swallow him.

"Don't talk so loudly," he muttered, grasping Arthur's wrist without even thinking about it, and pulling him away.

He steadfastly didn't think about it when he let go either.

Arthur rubbed his wrist and gave Ludwig a sour look, and really, he was being entirely melodramatic in Ludwig's opinion. He hadn't grabbed that hard.

"You really care so much about what random strangers think," Arthur said, his bafflement clear.

"I don't like drawing attention to myself," Ludwig replied, lips pursed into a tight line. He never had liked it, and considering what they were... "If people pay attention then they might notice things. I hardly want to find myself locked up in an asylum or used for medical experimentation." Or burned as witches in some less enlightened places, he was sure.

"I don't think anyone would go quite so far," Arthur said, but he sounded a little less confident than he had. He sighed. "You didn't answer my question."

"What is there to say?" Ludwig asked flatly.

"Germany's been around for centuries," Arthur said, "you must have been there for some of it."

"The German people have," Ludwig replied with a frown. it really wasn't something that he'd spent much time thinking about. "But I only remember a century or so." And much of that was hazy and difficult to recall. He thought that he remembered being sick a lot.

"Huh." Arthur looked thoughtful. "Never thought of it that way. That would have been after the Napoleonic Wars. The German Confederation."

Ludwig nodded. "There was nothing like a unified Germany before then. Perhaps that is why I only remember so far."

"Maybe," Arthur agreed. "Who knows?" Their origins were as mysterious to them as to anyone else.

"Have you always been England?" Ludwig asked quietly. It wasn't quite what he meant, but he couldn't think of a better way to put it.

"I remember the Romans," Arthur said easily, and there was a far off look in his eyes. "I think..." he paused for a moment, frowning. "Perhaps I was the Britannia that Rome made, or maybe I came before that. I don't remember much, and slept in fits and starts after they left with nothing holding me together."

Ludwig was silent for several moments after that admission. It was a lot to take in. "Two thousand years," he said, awed by the very idea of it. His single century was already more than most people could dream of, but to live for so long!

Arthur smirked. "At least I've kept my looks, no?"

"Ah yes..." Ludwig stammered, flushing red, "I mean... I wasn't say-" He was just going to cringe at the feeling of mortification.

Arthur laughed at his stammered reply. "It's alright. I understand if my ravishing good looks have left you speechless."

"I'm glad that you've retained your modesty," Ludwig murmured, making Arthur snicker and clap him on the shoulder.

"No time for modesty," Arthur said, and he looked like he could say more, but he closed his mouth and smiled instead.

"I never considered immortality," Ludwig said quietly, glad to be changing the subject and not knowing why it had flustered him so, "even when I outlived everyone that I knew. But hearing you saying that..." He shook his head. "I apologise. It is a melancholy thought."

"We're not immortal," Arthur replied with surprising joviality considering the topic, "we're just resilient. I always looked at it that someone had to be around to bear witness. I remember how things really were when the history books are written by those who are victorious or with perfect hindsight."

Ludwig let a smile curl his lips. "And you have not been victorious often enough, hm?"

"I've been defeated too," Arthur replied. "And I am all that is wrong and rotten within my empire, as well as what is glorious. Perfection would be boring and someone has to remember that it is unobtainable."

Ludwig would have expected shame at the admission, guilt or embarrassment, but somehow Arthur sounded so at ease with himself and his chequered past, while Ludwig could never imagine it being quite so easy to stare back at his own history. "Maybe age helps," he replied, keeping his tone light, but expression absolutely straight as Arthur sputtered and glared, losing every ounce of his cool demeanour. Ludwig congratulated himself on a job well done.

They wandered Copenhagen for a while longer, familiarising themselves with its streets, before stopping for dinner at a small restaurant near the docks, serving some of the fish caught that day.

"I'll take you to Whitby one day," Arthur said as they ate.

"Whitby?" Ludwig asked, remembering the name only from Dracula and in the novel it had sounded terribly forbidding and mythical.

Arthur nodded. "They do the best fish there. Cockles right from the sea."

He wasn't certain that it sounded as appetising as Arthur seemed to believe, but he nodded anyway. "Then we'll go to Bonn and have wurst and beer," he offered in return, feeling a sudden pang of homesickness at the thought of it. Even during the war, he had always been sent back to his land every few weeks by those few who knew what he was. This was the longest that he'd ever been away.

"You Germans and your wurst," Arthur said with a grin.

"I'm not the one who brought his own tea leaves with him," Ludwig replied smoothly, and he smiled when Arthur protested, starting to lead them back towards their lodgings.

\----------

The next day was spent even more leisurely than the previous one, and the lateness of their start grated on Ludwig's nerves, even though rationally he knew that they could do nothing without access to records the country's inhabitants. He just hated feeling like they were wasting time. Not that, as Arthur reminded him, time was something that they were short of.

As if sensing his mood, Arthur suggested that they visit the train station first to collect timetables and maps of local and national routes, in case they needed to make an onward journey. Even if it was purely meant to appease him, Ludwig appreciated the consideration, especially when he was certain that Arthur would much rather spend an idle say sightseeing.

In return, Ludwig said nothing as they walked along the sea-front, when they saw a statue of a mermaid on a rock, and Arthur approached it with something bordering on reverence.

"I'm sure that he saw them too," Were Arthur's cryptic words. Ludwig just nodded, bemused, and settled for admiring the skill of the person who had cast the bronze, the detail of the work.

They found themselves gravitating once more towards the grounds of the amusement park that they'd passed yesterday, until they stood uncertainly outside the gates. "It's very indulgent," Ludwig said, but he couldn't hide his interest.

"We don't have anything else to do until we can get into the records," Arthur replied and then flashed him a devilish smile before taking off quickly towards the entrance, forcing Ludwig to follow him, or lose sight of him altogether.

It was obviously a popular attraction; they had to queue to pay, and inside the park, it was bustling with people. It wasn't what he would usually choose to do, but Ludwig found that he liked the atmosphere. It was nice to see people enjoying themselves after the depression and war of the past few years.

He kept Arthur in his sights as they wandered, even while he tried to take in all of the sights himself. He didn't think that either of them had intended to do much more than walk through the park, but somehow they found themselves queueing for rides and playing games at the various stalls dotted around the park. The wooden roller-coaster felt too rickety for Ludwig's tastes, and he was certain that he could do a better job of designing one, even when Arthur insisted that the prospect of plunging to a grisly death and the explanation required when they revived, were all part of the fun.

Part of him wondered about Arthur's sanity.

Eventually, as he had known would happen, they were drawn towards the theatre as night fell. It was a beautiful thing; an Eastern pavilion with the stage curtain designed and painted like a perfect peacock's tail, and the lights glittered around it. It was enchanting, and he didn't resist too much when Arthur nudged him into a seat.

"What is the performance," Ludwig asked as the curtain furled back, revealing the stage, trying to hide that he had been paying more attention to the lights and sounds then the information presented.

"Commedia dell'arte," Arthur replied. "The original pantomime. I haven't seen one in years."

Ludwig had not seen one at all, so he allowed himself to sit and relax as he watched the rogue Harlequin chase Columbine, as the foolish servant, Pierrot with his white face, was teased, as they danced across the stage, all bright costumes and buffoonery. Arthur occasionally murmured soft explanations to him about the history of the form, and of the story and the characters. He really must have been a fan of the theatre, from the way that he spoke so knowledgeably.

Ludwig enjoyed it. It felt removed from the world outside, as though they were in a bubble where the problems of the world were left behind. It was a powerful feeling and he could understand the desire of the crowds to indulge in it.

He clapped when it ended and the performers took their final bow, and he couldn't hide his smile. They lingered, even as the crowds began to leave, watching the peacock curtain furl back over the stage and some of the lights dim. "I enjoyed that," Ludwig said honestly, and it seems such an understatement.

Arthur grinned, brighter than Ludwig had seen from him before, and he stood, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. "I'm glad. I haven't been to the theatre since before the war. I hadn't realised how much I missed it."

"Have you ever performed," Ludwig asked as they made their way through the seats and back towards the rest of the park, cutting around the path at the back of the theatre. Some of the performers were already leaving, the heavy coats a stark contrast to the bright costumes of earlier.

"A few times," Arthur admitted, a wistful smile on his lips. "I've done a lot of jobs over the years."

"Understandable. I've do-ooof!" Ludwig grunted when a man bumped heavily into him. It didn't hurt so much as startle him.

"Hell... sorry about that!" the man said, grasping Ludwig's shoulder. His expression was wholly apologetic and he brushed off Ludwig's embarrassed apologies ("I should have been watching my step.") with a wave of his hand. "Not at all. Was my fault for being in such a hurry."

He swept off his hat, revealing unruly blond hair and bright blue eyes and an infectious grin. From the corner of his vision, Ludwig could see Arthur go very pale.

"Arthur?" he murmured, half turning towards him. The stranger did the same.

Arthur screamed.


	5. Chapter 5

"What on..."

Ludwig grabbed Arthur's shoulders, giving him a little shake. The screaming stopped, but Arthur's eyes were wide, pupils dilated until there was only a tiny sliver of colour around the black.. "Arthur!" he said sharply, shaking him again, panic starting to curl in his belly when Arthur gave no response. "Arthur, what is it?" People were starting to gather and stare and he must look mad to them, shaking his stricken friend, but Ludwig didn't know what was wrong. Arthur started shivering violently, his whole body trembling, and it reminded Ludwig of those men that he'd seen in the trenches, the ones who had been barely able to move; shell-shock, they'd said.

The man who had bumped into Ludwig grabbed his shoulder, giving him an intent look. "I've got a house near here," he said in a low voice, glancing over at the gathering throng of people.

Ludwig gave him a blank look, then turned back to Arthur's glazed eyes, unwilling to look away for more than a moment when he didn't know what was wrong.

"Before the police come," the man said insistently.

Distracted as he was, it took Ludwig a moment to catch the meaning of the man's words, and after a second of hesitation, he scooped Arthur up into his arms, as easily as though he were a child. They would move faster that was, and Arthur didn't seem in any state to be walking. It was like he'd shut down, and Ludwig had to force away the memory of vacant-eyed men in stinking field-hospitals.

The man led him quickly away from the crowd and behind the theatre, heading towards a gate that was much smaller than the main one; obviously an entrance for the people who worked there. He unfastened the bolt and slipped outside, holding the gate open for Ludwig who had a moment to wonder at the wisdom of following a stranger, before he followed him anyway.

Arthur's eyes were tightly shut, the only sign that he was not unconscious , and how could Ludwig not wonder what had caused him to fall into such a state? He had always been utterly steadfast and strong.

Ludwig's grip tightened protectively and he looked up at the other man again, who had moved a few paces ahead with his long stride. "I'm sorry," Ludwig said although his steps never slowed, hating to be an inconvenience, even now, "but I didn't catch your name."

The man flashed a wide smile. "Didn't offer it. This way."

"Ah..." Ludwig began awkwardly, not sure if it was supposed to be a joke, or whether the man was serious. Ludwig could probably hold off an attack, but having Arthur in his arms made things that bit more difficult. "I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt," he offered quietly.

"Mathias," the man said, "Mathias Køhler."

\----------

"He alright?"

Ludwig carefully closed the door of the spare bedroom that Mathias had kindly loaned them, and turned to face their host. "He's asleep," he said flatly, then offered what he hoped was a grateful smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Herr Køhler."

"Just Mathias," he replied with a shrug and an easy smile. "I feel I owe you for what happened. Eh..." He rubbed the back of his neck, an awkward gesture. "Whatever that was anyway."

"I wish that I knew," Ludwig said, glancing back at the closed door. Arthur had lost consciousness or fallen asleep, Ludwig wasn't sure, before they'd reached the house, and Ludwig had been unable to wake him. Should he try again perhaps? He could probably find a doctor, but the questions that might be asked gave him pause. It seemed such a strange thing to react to, and he knew that people had jostled Arthur before in Amsterdam and London and even Copenhagen in the crowds.

"Well, you're welcome to stay until he's better," Mathias replied easily. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"That would be good, thank you," Ludwig agreed. "And, ah... may I trouble you to ask if there is a public phone nearby?"

"I have one here," Mathias replied, guiding Ludwig down the stairs. "Treat my home as your own."

"Thank you, again. I just wish to inform our lodgings that we have been delayed."

"You're welcome to stay here if you wish. Might be a bad idea to move him when he's like this."

It made sense, Ludwig supposed, but he hated feeling indebted to anyone, especially a stranger when he was in no position to repay him. "You are being very generous," he began. "I don't like to intrude." And he wasn't used to relying on charity.

""You aren't," was the simple reply, and Mathias laughed. "I'm curious," he said, "not often you see a German and a Brit in these parts, 'specially not travelling together."

"I suppose it must seem strange," Ludwig replied, sitting down when Mathias gestured to the sofa in the cosy living room. "We're friends and associates studying at Oxford," he said, remembering the lie that they'd used at the records office. "We felt like travelling and we're doing some genealogical research."

"Searching for anyone in particular?" Mathias asked, giving him a particularly intent look. "I know a bit about Danish history so if I can be of any help..."

"Just some ancestors of mine," Ludwig lied easily. Denmark shared a border with him and there was a lot of exchange between the two countries. It wasn't so unbelievable that he might have Danish ancestry were he human.

"Heh, lots of mixed blood there, I suppose," Mathias said, "especially after Schleswig-Holstein was... taken. Although I guess the North is back where it belongs." There was a note of bitterness there which wasn't quite hidden and Ludwig gave him a sharp look, mingled with his own bitterness. He could feel the sting from the loss of Northern Schleswig, raw and new from the treaty of Versailles. But surely there could not still be anger about the original loss! Or was it...?

The look on Mathias' face was gone without a trace a moment later, and his jovial expression made Ludwig wonder if he had imagined the trace of something else. "A drink!" Mathias said genially, throwing Ludwig off-guard with the normality of it all.

"Yes, thank you. Coffee if you have it."

Mathias disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a steaming cup of coffee which Ludwig drank gratefully, only just starting to realise how drained he felt after all that had happened.

"I will make up the spare room for you," Mathias said.

"You're very kind."

"I'd be remiss as a host if I wasn't," Mathias replied warmly and then left. Ludwig could hear him climbing the stairs. He leaned back to finish the rest of his coffee, eyes feeling heavy. He'd just rest for a moment, and then go to check on Arthur again.

\----------

Arthur woke with a pounding headache, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He groaned, clutching a hand to his head, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Damn! What had he done to deserve this? Admittedly, it was not the first time he had woken up in similar circumstances; indeed, he had to check to make sure that he was alone in bed, but he usually remembered getting drunk, or at least, the blank in his memory was enough to tell him that he'd been drunk, but there was nothing like that this time.

He just remembered... He winced and rubbed his temples, massaging them to try and reduce the throbbing there. He remembered the amusement park and the harlequinade, and he remembered...

The door opened and Arthur froze, staring at the man who entered. His heart was pounding, adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins. He was all smiles, but Arthur could only snarl, remembering fire and blood and the sound of his people screaming. "You!" he said harshly, pushing himself off the bed so that it was between them. Not an effective barrier perhaps, but it would give him a few moments. He clenched his fists to hide the trembling, hoping that the sick feeling didn't show in his face.

The man stayed in the doorway, watching him with an intent look, a frown on his lips. "Where do I know you from?" he said softly, scrutinising Arthur's face.

A harsh laugh escaped Arthur's lips, but his breath came in rough gasps, too fast to be normal, fight or flight reaction coursing through him. "Don't pretend to be ignorant," he snarled, eyes darting to the door and the staircase beyond. Where was Ludwig? Arthur couldn't just leave him here. Despite the year, the centuries that had passed, he crossed himself, an old prayer in a dead language coming to his lips.

The man gaped at him in shock upon hearing the prayer and he stumbled back as though struck, clutching the door frame for balance. "No... you cannot be..." he said and Arthur's mind translated it to guttural Norse, a savage growl of a language. The man's hand dropped, clutching his thigh as though pained. "That's impossible."

_The sword was too big for him, heavy enough that he could barely lift it, but he tried anyway. They were burning his churches, the scent of smoke acrid in his mouth, the heat scorching his tongue. They were were killing his people and their terror made him shake to his very bones._

_He charged, screaming mindlessly at the Norse men, sword raised as high as he could manage it, clumsy and unpractised as he swung, hitting one of the fair-haired demons in the leg._

_And the demon laughed, blue eyes lit with the fire of the burning buildings; surely a creature from hell itself. Even with blood seeping through his clothing, the monster laughed._

"Suppose I should have guessed that something was amiss back then," the man said, his smile darkening close to the shade that Arthur remembered from back then. It made him shiver. But he would hold fast. He was the British Empire on whom the sun never set and the Vikings were naught but a memory in the dirt. "No human would have dared to attack me so brazenly and so ill prepared. The question is, what are you? A demon?"

"I could ask you the same," Arthur said, "but I think I can guess, Denmark."

The man's eyes widened at the way Arthur addressed him and then he laughed, loud and full-bodied. Under other circumstances it might even have been a pleasant sound, but Arthur could connect it with nothing but destruction. "Yes," he said, "yes, I am." He leaned against the door frame, deliberately casual, and his expression softened. "I hardly dare to ask how you know that name." 

_I hardly dare to hope for the answer._

And Arthur realised with a jolt, that he recognised the note in the voice of the man who was Denmark. He knew the nervousness, the terror there, brought from wondering if this was real, if it was even _possible_ , or whether it was a dream and he would go back to loneliness once more.

All of the anger and hatred drained out of him at hearing it, and Arthur managed to force a smile. "I'm England," he said hoarsely.

Denmark looked him up and down for a moment and then gave an approving nod. "You're taller than I remember."

\----------

Ludwig woke with a start and blinked blearily before mortification set in. He had fallen asleep on Mathias' sofa and what would the man think an-

He could hear raised voices from upstairs. That was definitely Arthur's, such a harsh tone and he sounded... scared?

The enormity of his stupidity hit him and he cursed himself. How could he have been so foolish as to leave an unconscious Arthur alone with a stranger?! He didn't have a weapon, but he grabbed the poker from beside the fireplace and hurried up the stairs, face fixed with a mask of rage.

He could see Mathias in the doorway and although things seemed quieter, it didn't soothe his anger any. "What is going on? What have you done to Arthur?" Ludwig snarled, advancing on the other man, poker clenched in his fist and he could feel the cold metal warping beneath his fingers. 

Mathia turned, surprise showing on his face as he took in the poker and Ludwig's anger. He smoothly shifted into an easy stance. The man was a fighter, Ludwig realised, and cursed himself again for not noticing.

"You're making a mistake," Mathias said in a low voice.

"I'll decide that," Ludwig growled, only pausing for a second when Mathias stepped away from the door without a fight, to allow Ludwig to glance around quickly, never taking his full attention away from Mathias.

Arthur was awake and standing and looked no worse for wear except for the awkward expression he was wearing. "Arthur, are you alright?" he asked quickly, glancing back to make sure that Mathias hadn't moved, but he was still standing there, hands in his pockets, a faint smile on his lips.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, gaze fixing on the poker for a moment before returning to Ludwig's face. "I feel like someone hit me over the head with a shovel, but I'm fine," he said. "Why do you have a poker?"

Ludwig could feel the blush working it's way up his face to the tips of his ears and he tried to hide the poker behind his back, even though it had already been seen. "I ah... I thought... maybe..."

"He thought I was trying t' kill you or something, I bet," Mathias said from behind him, amusement clear.

Ludwig wondered if he wished hard enough, whether he could die there and then and avoid this mortification. He felt like a fool.

Arthur blinked at him, _something_ flickering in his eyes for a moment before he gave a soft laugh and patted Ludwig's shoulder, leaning close for just a moment. "I'm fine," he promised earnestly. "But thank you. I appreciate your concern."

"I heard shouting," Ludwig said. "Something was going on."

"I saw a ghost," Arthur replied with a shrug. "Startled me."

Ludwig blinked, even more confused now. "A ghost?" Was this another thing like Arthur's pendulum scrying?

Mathias stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. "We had a little talk."

"About what?" Ludwig asked. Unconsciously his grip on the poker tightened once more and he placed himself between Arthur and the other man. He felt as though he was missing something very important, especially when Arthur and Mathias exchanged glances.

"The reason why I was shouting," Arthur said carefully, "is because I saw a face that I'd seen once before, a long time ago. When I was a child, actually."

A child? But that had been centuries ago.

"You talk a lot for someone who was screamin' the first time you saw me," Mathias said with an easy smile, only the barest edge to his voice hinting at something darker. He held out his hand to Ludwig. "Denmark. I'm Denmark."

Ludwig could only stare for a moment, dumbstruck. It seemed an impossible coincidence, but then, hadn't his meeting Arthur also been impossible? He dropped the poker which he was still holding, and winced when it clanged to the ground, then took Mathias' hand, giving a firm handshake. "I'm Ludwig. Germany, I mean. I'm Germany." He didn't know if he could ever get used to introducing himself as such.

"And your friend there is England," Mathias said, ducking his head in a nod. "And I do hope that you're taking care of Schlesweg-Holstein," he added jokingly.

"As well as can be," Ludwig said uncomfortably, not certain how to react to this man now. It was difficult to decide when you'd threatened someone with a poker.

"So, now introductions are over, care for a drink?"

\------------

The inn that Mathias took them to was bustling with people at that time of night, and from the way that Mathias was greeted there, it was clear that he was a regular patron of the establishment. It seemed as though everyone knew him by name, that everyone _liked_ him, an old friend to even the most grizzled of the regulars. 

"Why shouldn't they like me?" he asked with a bright smile when Ludwig mentioned it. "I'm their country, after all!"

It was such a simple answer, but it was not something that Ludwig had ever considered before. Perhaps he should have. Mathias had such effortless affection from his people. It wasn't so much that they hung on his every word, but they enjoyed hearing him.

Mathias laughed it off easily once he saw Ludwig's expression. "I'm an actor. Got to keep the audience enraptured, right?"

Arthur leaned forward, looking interested, although Ludwig noticed how he still kept his distance from Mathias, even while they were speaking quite cordially. "An actor?" he asked eagerly. "What do you perform?" 

Mathias seemed pleased at the interest, sitting a little straighter, his smile a little brighter. "At the pavilion in Tivoli," he said, "the place with the peacock curtain? I play Pierrot at some of the performances. I'd do it more but..." he shrugged, a cloud coming over his expression. "Looks weird if I stick around when the other actors age and retire."

"Oh, we saw the performance today!" Arthur said, and then, more subdued, "I think that we can all appreciate that difficulty. One of the difficulties of our... condition."

"Ah well," Mathias said, once more all smiles and joviality again. "I guess it's the price to pay for looking this handsome forever."

Arthur humphed. "You looked like a gangly youth when I first saw you. Hardly a dashin figure."

"And you looked like a little brat carryin' a sword twice his size!" Mathias protested. Ludwig snorted softly at the image that brought to mind. Arthur elbowed him hard in the ribs in retaliation, but Ludwig felt that he had the moral high ground. He wondered whether all Nations were this vain, and whether similar delusions of grandeur waited for him in the future. At least they seemed to be happily delusional. And at least the beer was decent. Not quite up to German standards of course, but... not bad. It would suffice.

Mathias stood up and went to fetch them another round of beers. Ludwig leaned close to Arthur. "How do you know him?" he asked quietly. It had seemed rude to ask while the man himself was around, but he wanted to know why Arthur seemed to uncomfortable at times. It couldn't be just because of a war, otherwise he and Arthur certainly wouldn't be travelling together. He had the vaguest of ideas, but hadn't seemed the time nor place to ask while they'd been at Mathias' house.

Arthur looked at him and then sighed. "Oh, Viking raids," he said nonchalantly, but Ludwig could hear the faint hitch in his words. "I was caught at one of the monasteries when they raided. Burned the whole place down, most of the people with it. Stole their precious things. And I attacked him. Of course, he was just another violent stranger then. I didn't know what he was. Doubt it would have made much difference if I had known." He managed a weak smile, trying to reassure Ludwig. "He is right though. The sword was nearly twice my size. I could barely lift it."

After an awkward moment of silence, Ludwig reached over to clasp Arthur's shoulder. He couldn't find the correct response for that in words, but hopefully his actions would convey at least a little of what he meant. Arthur's smile brightened at least.

"It's ridiculous perhaps, to still be thinking about it now," he continued, "but... ah, I thought that they were all long dead. Relics of the ancient barbaric past. Perhaps it was foolish of me to repress the memories of it for so long."

"It's always easier to say that in retrospect," Ludwig said quietly. "You certainly do not seem to have suffered for it, although you seemed intent on giving me a heart attack." Ludwig wished that he was better at being comforting, but he always felt so awkward and stilted whenever he tried.

"An empire forged in fire and steel, that's me," Arthur said, his fragile expression healing without a scar.

"Will you be alright here?" Ludwig asked, glancing over at the bar when a roar of laughter echoed from Mathias and the men who had congregated around him.

Arthur nodded. "I'll be fine. It was just a shock. Threw me. I'd almost forgotten those days."

"Good," Ludwig said, satisfied that Arthur was being truthful rather than displaying foolish bravado.

"Trying to take care of me?" Arthur asked. Ludwig searched his expression, looking for any sign of annoyance or anger. There was none, only genuine curiosity.

Ludwig felt the tips of his ears heat up and he looked away quickly to hide it, staring down at his mug of beer. "You're a friend, a traveling companion. Is it wrong to be concerned for your welfare?" And Arthur had been the first of their kind that he had ever met. 

Arthur looked at him a moment longer, a tiny secretive smile on his lips. "Not at all."

Mathias returned before the silence that followed could become too uncomfortable, carrying three mugs of beer which he set down on the table in front of them.

"So," he said cheerfully, "are you going to tell me how we came to bump into each other? Beyond the obvious, I mean."

Arthur gave Ludwig a sideways glance, prompting him to answer, and Ludwig cleared his throat. "We were, well, we were looking for you," he said lamely. That was the simplest answer after all.

Mathias frowned, looking a little confused. Ludwig continued quickly. "Before Arthur and I met, we both believed that we were the only ones of our kind, the only countries with a... a human nature. But now that we know differently, we are trying to find others who might exist. They _have_ to exist," he added, determination in his voice.

"Well, you've found me," Mathias said, with a smile that was softer than the ones that they'd seen so far. "And I am glad for it. It gets lonely. Have you met any others?"

"Just the Netherlands," Arthur said with a shrug. "He was the one who suggested that we try Scandanavia. Most of Europe has a grudge against one or the other of us after all," he said with a wry look.

"And he was right obviously," Mathias said. "Good thing you didn't go to Sweden instead."

"Oh?" Ludwig asked curiously. Admittedly, he had not been paying all that much attention to events so far north, but he couldn't remember anything happening recently.

"They're a bad sort over there," Mathias said mischeviously. "Swedes are weird."

Arthur smirked. "I'm sure that they say the same things about Danes."

Mathias laughed. "I'm certain that they do. Doesn't mean that I'm not right."

Another voice called out Mathias' name and he raised his hand, calling out a quick greeting.

Arthur gave him a searching look. "Do they know?" he asked bluntly. "About what you are, I mean." It had been on Ludwig's mind too. He was certainly popular with everyone, like some kind of local hero.

Mathias shook his head, a wistful expression appearing on his face. "No, mores the pity. I wish sometimes that they did. I just spend a lot of time here. I like getting to know them, but I'll have to move on eventually. But for now... they're my people. I love them. They can tell and I think that they know it subconsciously. Don't you feel the same?" he added earnestly, leaning forward, hands clasped beneath his chin.

The two of them exchanged uncomfortable looks. "I never really..." Ludwig began, swallowing thickly before continuing. "I move a lot. Every two years or so. I don't like staying in one place." Ever since he could remember. The thought of staying too long always filled him with dread, for reasons that he couldn't really articulate. He sometimes thought he remembered- no, but that was ridiculous. They were just dreams, the stresses of the day playing out in his subconscious. "I've got into the habit of not being recognised. It's easier that way." Although the ease with which Mathias interacted with his people made a longing feeling curl inside him. It would be nice to feel so close, to feel wanted by one's people.

Arthur shrugged, looking far less concerned than Ludwig felt, although he thought perhaps that he detected a look of discomfort in the way that Arthur shifted in his chair. "Sometimes," he said blandly. "Times of unity. Never really thought about it. I like my solitude." His words were crisp and curt and brooked no argument.

Mathias was silent for a moment, his expression carefully blank, and Ludwig had to wonder what it was hiding. Pity for them, perhaps? Probably nothing so crass as superiority. "Fair enough," Mathias replied with an easy smile, breaking the silence. "I've had my periods of that too. Guess I just like people too much to stay away. I know I sometimes stay around for too long." He raised his glass and took a long draught of beer. "In any case, we should drink up of we'll get locked in for the night."

"You say that as though it's a bad thing," Arthur replied, smirking as he drained his own glass.

Ludwig did the same quickly. At least if nothing else, he had found good drinking partners.


	6. Chapter 6

"Please don't worry about us," Ludwig insisted. "I can take the sofa easily enough. I do not want to deny you your bed."

"Really," Mathias said. "I'm the host and I'd feel churlish if I slept while you were on the sofa."

"I could always take the sofa," Arthur said, only for the two of them to round on him.

"No. After today, you need to have a proper bed," Ludwig said, and Mathias nodded.

Arthur rolled his eyes, looking extremely put out. It would have been amusing if they hadn't been very politely arguing since they'd arrived back at Mathias' house. And if they hadn't been acting as though he were someone who needed protection. As it was, he was just getting frustrated.

"Look," he said scowling as he folded his arms across his chest, giving them a sour look. "You take your bed, Mathias. Ludwig and I can share. The bed is big enough and no-one is relegated to the sofa." That way, everyone was happy. Sort of.

Ludwig gave him a more shocked look than he felt the situation really warranted, and Mathias seemed sceptical. "Are you certain?" he asked. "I don't mind the sofa, really."

"Never surer," Arthur replied firmly. They were hardly talking about sending one of them off to sleep in the street, were they? And by now he just wanted to go and sleep.

"Well, I'll get you some extra pillows then," Mathias said, heading over to the cupboard on the landing and pilling them out. "Let me know if you need anything else. Anything at all."

"We will," Arthur said. "Good night."

Ludwig murmured the same.

"Night," Mathias replied, and he headed towards his own room, closing the door behind himself.

"Arthur, are you certain?" Ludwig asked, a frown drawn between his eyes. "I do not mind taking the sofa. Arthur had had a stressful day. 

Arthur suppressed the urge growl. "I'm not a fragile flower to be coddled and treated like an invalid," he said sharply. "I've had worse experiences than sharing a bed for a night."

"It wasn't trying to imply that," Ludwig said as he followed Arthur into the bedroom. He really didn't. He just wasn't certain what to think. He had shared bunks with soldiers during the war but this! This was Arthur and...

He turned away modestly as Arthur stripped down to his underwear, apparently completely without shame. Ludwig took his time, waiting until he heard Arthur slide beneath the covers before he shucked off his clothing, folding it neatly over the back of an antique chair.

The bed was more than big enough for the two of them to share without touching, but it was still with extreme reluctance that Ludwig climbed in, turning onto his side facing away from Arthur. He relaxed, just a little, when the lamp was turned off, casting the room into darkness.

"Arthur?" he ventured, and continued when Arthur grunted in response, "are you really alright being here? You were terrified when you first saw Mathias." He could remember the scream and perhaps it was indelicate to broach the subject now, but it would be moreso to do it in front of their host. They could still go back to the boarding house if they wanted to, grab their luggage and catch the first ship to anywhere.

Arthur was silent for a long moment, and Ludwig starting to wonder if he'd fallen asleep when he replied. "I was startled, that's all," Arthur said. "He's nice. I told you, if I hated every Nation that I've fought with, then I'd run out of Nations to like very quickly."

He made it sound so simple, but Ludwig had never seen him scared before, not even amidst the gunfire and mud of the trenches. "If you say so," he said quietly.

"I do say so," Arthur replied, the smile in his voice making Ludwig feel startlingly warm.

\-----------

Ludwig woke in the middle of the night, but for once, it wasn't his own fractured dreams which woke him. Arthur had shifted closer to Ludwig in the night, and there was an unnatural tautness to his body which alerted Ludwig to something being wrong.

"Arthur?" he whispered, reaching out to shake his shoulder gently. A soft noise escaped Arthur and he sounded scared. Ludwig shook him again, concern growing. This had been a bad idea. They should have just gone back to the guest house, no matter how king Mathias had been. 

A shudder wracked Arthur's body violently, and Ludwig suddenly hated himself for not knowing what to do. He could barely deal with his own dreams, it felt like, let alone someone else's.

Finally Arthur woke, or he seemed to, and Ludwig found the other man clutching him like he was the only safety in a world full of monsters, his arm caught in a vice-like grip. He could make out mumbled words like 'fire' and 'dead' and 'screaming', but the rest fo Arthur's speech was garbled by sleep and languages too old for Ludwig to recognise.

Without thinking, he reached out with the arm not being clutched, and rested his hand on Arthur's shoulder. it seemed to grab Arthur's attention, although his eyes were wide and unseeing, for he still, and Ludwig could feel a fine tremble running through his body.

Awkwardly he drew his hand lightly down the length of Arthur's arm to his wrist, and felt the tremble subside as he moved. No time for the mortification that burned itself across his cheeks, he continued with the soothing gestures until Arthur calmed and then fell back into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Sleep was slower in returning for Ludwig.

\----------

He woke alone the next morning with Arthur no-where to be seen. His clothes were gone though, so he had probably just gone downstairs. It was a relief really. Ludwig needed a few moments to compose himself after last night, to gather himself and decide what he would say to Arthur about last night.

He took his time while getting dressed, allowing himself a rare moment to let his mind wander, thinking about nothing in particular.

Finally he considered himself suitably prepared to face the day, and he ventured downstairs, following the sound of voices from the lounge. Mathias and Arthur were there, talking like old friends about the theatre, although Ludwig couldn't help but notice that Arthur kept a certain physical distance between them, nore than he ever had with William. Still, for a moment Ludwig felt rather out of place.

He entered the room and both of them looked up at him. "Morning Ludwig," Mathias said, entirely too cheerful for a morning in his opinion. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you," he replied politely, glancing over at Arthur for a moment. He gave no sign of remembering last night and the nightmare, which was probably for the best. It was embarrassing enough knowing that Arthur had seen one of his nightmares after all.

"Good morning," Arthur said, then gestured to the food set out on the table. "We left you breakfast and there's coffee."

" _Thankyou_ ," Ludwig said emphatically, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup of it, drinking it black. 

Mathias grimaced. "I'll never understand how people drink it like that."

"I'll never understand the appeal of coffee in general," Arthur muttered, prompting a smile from Ludwig in between sips of his drink.

"Have you got a plan for today?" Mathias asked while Ludwig finished his coffee and took a plate. There was a loaf of bread on the table, and he took a couple of slices, smearing it with butter and cheese before poruing himself another cup of coffee. The food and coffee did wonders at making him feel a bit more personable.

"We hadn't decided," Arthur admitted. "We'd intended to go back to the records office at the town hall tomorrow, but that plan is rather useless now," he said with a touch of amusement.

"Records office?" Mathias asked curiously.

Ludwig nodded. "That's how we found the Netherlands," he explained. "They had some photographs which were taken too many years apart for him to look so unchanged by time, and then we looked up addresses," he said, ignoring the pointed glance that Arthur gave him. He was _not_ mentioning Arthur's divining and pure _luck_ to Mathias.

Mathias leaned back in his chair looking thoughtful. "That's dedication. Don't know if I'd have the patience for it myself. Good idea though, although I think you'll have trouble some places. Not everyone's records are as neat as mine," he said with a grin.

"We never thought that far ahead. There are plenty of countries that we can focus on before we run into such trouble," Arthur said. "After all, we have time."

"Time's one thing we're not short of," Mathias agreed and then stood up. "I have to work unfortunately. Early performance. I can get you tickets to Tivoli if you'd like, or it's a wonderful city, obviously," he said, pride obvious in his voice.

"We should probably return to our lodgings to let them know why we didn't return last night," Ludwig said, always pragmatic, even if he didn't want to deal with the landlady again. "But after that, I would like to see the city. We only saw a small section of it yesterday."

"I'll make dinner for the three of us tonight," Mathias said, and there was a look in his eyes, the same kind of look that Ludwig was certain that he must have worn himself when he and Arthur had first met again after the war.

It made it easy to agree.

An hour or so later they headed back to the guest house, a paper covered in Mathias' scrawled handwriting in their possession. He had insisted upon writing down as many places to see in Copenhagen and the surrounding area as he could, and it was a long list.

"I think he's trying to keep us here," Arthur said as he looked through the list. "We could be here for years."

"We have time," Ludwig said, his lips twitching in amusement at being able to throw Arthur's words back at him.

Arthur just glared for a moment, and then sighed, folding the papers and placing them carefully into his journal. "Maybe we should introduce him to William when we need to make our escape."

"You seem very keen to speak of leaving," Ludwig said, his smile fading. But then Arthur spoke with Mathias as though they were old friends. It was confusing.

Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not, not really. I never expected when we embarked that I might meet someone that I had already met. Now I'm questioning if every soldier I ever met on the battlefield might have been one of us. It's like I'm having to relive every memory and I don't like it. There are far too many of them," he added with a somewhat grim smile.

Ludwig had not considered it in those terms, but it made sense. "We could return to England if you wish," he offered, and knew that his reluctance was showing through. It felt that they were only just getting somewhere, just starting to pick up momentum and if they went back, he feared that they might never manage to set off again. They'd go home and forget and maybe they would run into each other by chance, on the battlefield, but nothing more.

The thought made him feel sick.

Arthur was silent for several moments, and Ludwig felt his stomach sink.

Then Arthur gave a rakish smile, one that showed his teeth, and he shook his head. "I'm not feeling that sorry for myself," he said roughly. "It's an adventure. I like adventures."

The sheer relief that Ludwig felt was a little strange, a little worrying, but he could push away the strange feelings easily. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said awkwardly.

"I could hardly let you do this alone. I don't like missing out." Arthur's smile softened. "I am enjoying myself, a few hiccups aside."

And Ludwig could not deny the warm feeling which fluttered in his stomach.

\-----------

Mathias' recommendations were predictably good, even taking into account the enthusiastic exaggeration that he indulged in. They visited many of them over the coming days, usually meeting up with Mathias for lunch or dinner in the evening and he accompanied them on his days off from work, proving to be a knowledgeable guide.

He took great interest in their photographs too, going so far as to pay for the hire of a dark room where Ludwig could develop them. 

"I didn't know that you could do that," Arthur said, watching in fascination as the pictures began to appear on the damp papers hung up to develop. 

"I've dabbled a little in photography," Ludwig admitted as he pinned up another photograph. The lure of having a moment of time recorded forever... it was a powerful lure for one who lived as long as he would.

"They're amazing," Arthur said. Ludwig turned back to his work, glad that the darkness hid his blush.

\-----------

Arthur was getting restless, Ludwig could tell. He kept looking out at the harbour longingly, talking about other places that they could be seeing. That was one of the differences between them, Ludwig was coming to realise. He was content to become comfortable in one place, while Arthur wanted the thrill of travel and they had been in Denmark for several months.

In the end, it was Mathias who made the decision for them.

"It's probably a good time to head off," he said reluctantly when they mentioned their thoughts about leaving. "I've been in Copenhagen for too long. People will start talking soon about me keeping my youthful good look for unnaturally long," he continued, flashing a grin which didn't quite meet his eyes.

There was an awkward silence for several moments. Ludwig and Arthur both knew what it was like to have to leave everything behind to avoid suspicion, but it didn't help them with knowing what to say to Mathias.

"Where are you going to go," Arthur asked finally when the silence had grown too uncomfortable to bear.

"The countryside," Mathias replied. "I have a house out there. I go back to it every so often. The family that I pay for the upkeep know what I am. One of them works for the government. He keeps me abreast of what's going on." He smiled wistfully. "I'll miss this place though. And the job."

"Why not find another?" Ludwig asked with a small frown. He had never been particularly attached any of his peacetime jobs, but there had to be theatres in other parts of Denmark, or even over the border!

"It's a small world in theatre," Mathias replied, the humour returning to his voice. "Everyone knows everyone else somehow. Reputation is important."

"When do you leave?" Arthur said quietly.

"My last performance is next week. It gives me time to pack and make arrangements to have the house rented out. I can't bring myself to part with it."

"You could co-" Ludwig began, only for Mathias to cut him off with a short laugh.

"It's a tempting offer, but I have things to do! I called that William fellow for one, the Netherlands. I'm going to Amsterdam soon to meet him."

"You are?" Arthur asked, sounding somewhat dumbstruck. It matched Ludwig's surprise. He had known in theory that this might happen, but it was incredible to actually hear it. It felt like they'd actually achieved something!

Mathias nodded. "We're making arrangements. it's a strange feeling and I cannot thank you enough. Makes me with I'd thought of it centuries ago."

"Right time and right place," Arthur answered, reaching out and touching Mathias' shoulder lightly. "We were lucky. It was an impossible chance."

"Yeah," Mathias said, "you're right. Uh..." He rooted through his coat pocket for a moment before pulling out two tickets and holding them towards Ludwig and Arthur. "I'd like it if you'd come to my last performance at the theatre."

"We would be honoured," Ludwig said, rather touched by the gesture if he was honest with himself. He'd never considered himself close enough to anyone to receive such a thing, or at least, he'd never thought that anyone might consider themselves close enough to _him_.

"I'll be glad to see you."

They spent the next few days helping Mathias to pack his belongings into sturdy boxes, ready for the cart that Mathias had borrowed to help him move them. It was an odd affair; the same things which brought Mathias the most joy, also seemed to leave him tinged with the most melancholy. There were photographs and sketches, old flags and older clothes, relics from ancient times, like watching a life lived backwards, uncovering the layers.

There were some things, Ludwig noted, that Arthur would not touch or even look at; swords and furs, and these Mathias made sure to pack himself with utmost care. Ludwig did not need to ask what period of time they were from.

It was odd seeing a house that they had come to associate with warmth and friendship stood empty save for boxes and what furniture could not be carried. When Mathias disappeared for several house before he had to leave for the theatre, neither of them commented.

The evening of the performance was a cool clear night, and they made their way to the amusement park together. Mathias let them in through the gate that they had left by all those weeks ago.

"Show starts in two hours," Mathias said as he left them outside the stage door.

The park was as lively as ever, and this time the two of them felt content to wander the park without indulging in any of the rides. Ludwig kept a strict eye on the time, and they were back at the theatre in plenty of time for the performance. Mathias had found them good seats, close to the front where they would get a clear view of his performance.

Even though they had seen the show before, Ludwig still felt a thrill when the curtain unfurled to reveal the stage and players. Ludwig kept the majority of his attention on the Pierrot character, the one that Mathias was playing, although one could hardly recognise him beneath the pale makeup and costume. This time he felt truly able to appreciate the skill that the man had; dancing and acting and clowning all mixed together skillfully.

It was easy to tell how much Mathias enjoyed the role and the stage itself. It was a good choice for someone with Mathias' exuberant personality. Ludwig felt a little twinge of regret that he had never found any job that he enjoyed as much.

They lingered by the stage door until their friend emerged, bright and grinning and clutching a bouquet of flowers in the crook of one elbow. He slung his arms around the two of them, albeit awkwardly while trying to juggle the bouquet.

"I was magnificent!" he crowed as they headed towards the gate.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And so modest with it too." And, Ludwig noted that for once he did not flinch away from Mathias' touch.

"You were very good," Ludwig said, understated but true, and Mathias grinned widely at him.

"You'll have to return one day when I get to play the role of my dreams."

"And what is that role?" Arthur asked, a smile curling his lips.

Mathias winked, his smile turning rakish. "Why, Hamlet, of course!"


	7. Chapter 7

"How is it so sticky?" Arthur groaned as he stripped off his jacket, throwing it carelessly over the back of a chair. "I'd take London drizzle in midwinter over this."

Ludwig made a non-committal noise, but reached up to loosen and remove his tie. He had to admit that Venice's humid November weather was a little overwhelming after the dry heat further south. It felt twice as hot, and the air was thick and cloying, sticking in the back of one's throat.

"I swear this is the only time I've been happy to spend a sunny afternoon looking through dusty church records," Arthur continued as he threw himself down onto the couch and stretched out full length along it. He'd rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows and unbuttoned his collar, and his hair, untidy at the best of times, was plastered to his head in straggly clumps. There was sweat beaded on his forehead and throat, and the redness of his skin was due only in part to the heat; sunburn had become a very real hazard for him.

Ludwig turned away, heading over to the window in order to hide the fond smile that he knew was on his lips. For all his complaining, Arthur was a good travelling companion, the best that Ludwig could hope for really.

The apartment that they had rented in Venice looked out onto a narrow canal between the buildings. It wasn't the most upmarket location in the city, but it was good enough for their purposes. They were not travelling for recreational purposes after all. "You wouldn't been complaining if you were truly upset about it," he said, glancing back over his shoulder at Arthur. No, it was when Arthur was silent that you had to worry, or so Ludwig was coming to realise.

"It's just to distract myself from the fact that the place is full of Italians," Arthur replied with a grin. "If I complain enough, then I might be able to forget about that for a while."

Ludwig snorted softly, shaking his head. "They were _your_ allies," he said pointedly.

"That's not a particularly difficult thing to achieve when you have the entire Mediterranean fleet pointing at them."

"Surely you're being a little uncharitable," Ludwig said, voice tinged with amusement. There was still a slight twinge in his chest when they discussed the war, but it felt as though it was healing a little the more that they traveled together. To be fair, he had not really paid much attention to Italy during the war. He'd been more preoccupied by England and France on one side, and Russia on the other. It was not the most comfortable of positions to be in.

"I've never really dealt much with Italy, to be honest," Arthur replied. "Not to the extent of, oh, France or Spain. Never quite got over the small falling out that I had with the Pope. Theological differences."

Ludwig gazed at him for a moment, a small frown crinkling his brown. He was almost certain that Arthur was talking as a country with this, but one could never quite be sure with him. Ludwig wouldn't have put it past Arthur to have argued theology with a Pope at some point in history, even just out of sheer stubborn pride.

Arthur did not elaborate, but grinned at him, lounging arrogantly on the couch and somehow making it look like a throne. Ludwig could feel his cheeks heating up. He turned away quickly, turning his attention back to the street and canal below. A man in a black shirt walked past with neat, clipped steps.

"Where should we eat?" Ludwig asked. "We should go out before it gets too dark." It got more crowded once dusk fell, and although they'd had no trouble themselves, it was not the safest of cities. The maze of side-streets and waterways were beautiful but erratically designed and inevitably left Ludwig confused and lost. The Italian system seemed to run counter to everything that he was.

"We're in a city of gourmets. I'm sure that we can find somewhere to eat," Arthur replied with a touch of amusement.

"I thought that you might want to help to narrow it down," Ludwig said dryly.

"Alright then," Arthur replied teasingly. "No pasta."

Ludwig closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool stone of the wall. "I said to narrow it down, not to limit us to a gelato only diet," he replied gruffly, although he couldn't completely hide his own amusement.

"I cannot help it if I sometimes long for a plate of bacon and scrambled egg," Arthur said a little dreamily, and when Ludwig glanced over, his eyes were half-lidded and he licked his lips, leaving them spit-shiny and- Ludwig looked away quickly. "Black pudding, or maybe a little smoked salmon. Fish and chips!"

"Wurst," Ludwig said abruptly, forcing the image of how Arthur had looked from his mind. "I miss proper German wurst and beer." He hadn't had a decent beer since they'd left Denmark. He turned once more, giving Arthur a lopsided smile. "Perhaps once we find Italy, we could return home for a while. Yours and mine." He couldn't help but feel a little homesick at times.

"Maybe," Arthur replied, his shoulders slumping. "Assuming that we ever do find Italy," he added glumly. "If there is an Italy."

"There must be," Ludwig said, although with rather less conviction than he had felt even a few weeks ago. "We were spoiled by finding William and Mathias so quickly. We knew that it could take a long time."

Arthur grunted in response. They'd been in Italy for months, travelling around and trying to find the elusive country-person with no success so far. It was becoming a little disheartening. 

Across the street, a couple of men in the black shirts had gathered. It caught Ludwig's attention and he frowned, leaning out of the window a little to see if he could hear what they were saying, but they were too far away to pick up more than murmuring. He sighed and pulled back, not sure why he cared what they were speaking about, except that he had seen a few of them around and they made him uncomfortable in a way that he couldn't identify.

"We'll go to the restaurant that we saw on the way back," Ludwig said, a tone of finality in his voice. "The one off the square."

Arthur blinked at him, then smirked. "That describes half of the restaurants in the city, if not more."

"The one with the paintings," Ludwig replied, pursing his lips disapprovingly at Arthur's flippant reply.

"Now we're down to perhaps a third of them," Arthur said with a grin that showed he was deliberately trying to wind Ludwig up.

"I know where it is," Ludwig said, stifling a sigh at Arthur's entirely childish behaviour. "I'll shower first though." His shirt was sticking to his skin with the heat and humidity.

"I'll go after you," Arthur replied.

\----------

It was nearing dark when they finally reached the restaurant, no matter their best intentions of getting there early. Ludwig swore that the easy-going Italian way of life was seeping into him. Next thing he knew he'd be insisting on siestas every afternoon. The weather had cooled though, a soft breeze from across the lagoon making it much more bearable than the stickiness of the day. The restaurant was a small place away from the larger squares which catered mainly to visitors to the city, and they claimed a table outside on the street beneath a striped parasol. The food, when they had ordered, came quickly, and was good, simple and filling fare that they could both appreciate.

"Ah, you look so happy!" came an excited voice from the next table. "The food is good, yes? I come here all the time to eat! Have you been here before?"

Both of them just stared at the newcomer for a moment, taken aback by the rapid words. The man didn't seem put off at all by their silence, and _somehow_ managed to insinuate himself into a seat at their table, beaming happily, a smile which extended to his large brown eyes. "I like the gnocci a lot, but I like the pasta too and sometimes I can't choose so I have both."

"The food is very good," Ludwig said finally, and although it seemed impossible, the man's smile widened.

"You should try the gelato too," he said enthusiastically. "I always have gelato when I come here and it's really good." He paused, face falling a little as he finally seemed to notice their lack of response. "Ve~ Do you not like gelato?" he asked quietly. "Have... have you never _tried_ gelato?" he continued, eyes widening in horror at the very thought. 

"N-no, we like gelato," Arthur said hurriedly. Dear lord, for a moment he'd worried that the man might cry! But upon hearing those words, he brightened again.

"I am Feliciano," he said eagerly. "I am a painter and I often sit here and paint the people who pass by. Are you here for that? The scenery I mean, and the food of course! And the gelato."

Did he not need to breathe?

"We're researchers," Arthur replied, sounding as though he were speaking through gritted teeth. "We're in Venice to ah... research." If he was trying to put Feliciano off with a lackluster response, then he was sorely disappointed as the Italian just cooed his interest and bombarded them with questions about their research, never giving them more than a moment to respond. At least, Ludwig thought, it meant that they didn't have to come up with enough lies to answer him fully.

"Feliciano!" came a shout from within the restaurant, stopping Feliciano's chatter dead. "What have I told you about bothering customers?" The chef of the place stood in the doorway, gesticulating wildly as he berated Feliciano for interrupting the meal of paying customers.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" Feliciano squeaked. "But they are so interesting and tomorrow they are coming to my studio so that I can paint them so I wanted to make friends."

What? They were?

Ludwig and Arthur stared at each other in confusion for a moment, before Feliciano turned to them once more, his beaming smile firmly in place again. "I will meet you here at nin- no, ten in the morning!" he said firmly. "Enjoy your gelato!"

He waved brightly and then wandered off, whistling happily. Ludwig and Arthur could only stare after him in utter bafflement.

"Did we actually agree to this?" Arthur asked, still staring along the street, despite Feliciano having long since turned the corner out of sight.

"I... I don't know," Ludwig said. He wasn't certain if he should be amused or terrified. 

They did enjoy the gelato though, and despite their reservations, they were waiting outside the restaurant at ten the next morning. It felt rude to disappoint the young man, even though they hardly knew him and neither of them had actually agreed to the meeting. But with the weather so fine that day, neither of them particularly relished the thought of hours spent inside dusty archives.

They were still waiting there at ten-thirty, with Ludwig's temper beginning to fray, and Arthur looking thoroughly fed up. 

It was eleven when Feliciano finally turned up, smiling as though he wasn't an hour late for their meeting. "Ah, you came!" he said cheerfully when he approached them. "I was worried that I was late and would miss you, but now we can go to my studio and I can paint!"

"I-" Ludwig began awkwardly, "why do you want to paint us? We have barely met." They hadn't had chance to say much beyond their names and what they were doing in Italy last night.

Feliciano blinked at them. "Because you are interesting," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I like to paint interesting things." he paused for a moment and then, "Ah! And I will cook pasta for us for dinner!" He looked at them both with a hopeful expression and even Ludwig felt his resolve crumbling in the face of a look like that. He glanced over at Arthur who seemed to be faring similarly, albeit hiding it behind a façade of grumpiness.

Ludwig cleared his throat and nodded. "Very well."

Feliciano was on them instantly, linking arms and practically dragging them along at a fast pace. "My house is this way. Oh, but if we go this way then we can~"

The walk took far longer than it should have done, Ludwig was sure, as Feliciano took them along a maze of streets; crossing bridges and squares and doubling back on themselves as he thought of things 'just around the corner' that they absolutely had to visit this very minute. Perhaps it was the good weather, or just that Feliciano's enthusiasm was infectious, but Ludwig found that he didn't mind so much, even with the delays. Feliciano knew a lot about the city too; he seemed to have a gem of knowledge about every statue, fountain and archway.

"Have you lived here all your life?" Ludwig asked during one of Feliciano's few pauses for breath.

"Most of it," Feliciano replied easily. "I've traveled a lot, but my heart res- oh..."

He stopped dead, frowning unhappily as a group of black-shirted men walked past them, perfectly in step. Arthur turned to watch them warily as they passed, his expression guarded. "They walk like an army," he said quietly to Ludwig, his eyes dark with suspicion.

The words sent a shiver down Ludwig's spine and he couldn't resist a glance himself, just as the group turned the corner. Arthur was right. The men were too in step, too organised to be civilians.

"Who are they?" he asked, turning to Feliciano who had gone very pale.

"The Blackshirts," Feliciano said weakly, and then tugged on Ludwig's hand, a pleading expression on his face. "My apartment isn't very far away," he said, smiling again, although it seemed rather forced.

The Blackshirts. Ludwig committed the name to memory.

Feliciano's studio was a large and airy one on the fourth floor of an old building. The wide windows looked out over the lagoon and were propped open with wedges to make the best of the breeze. Even so, the clutter of the apartment made Ludwig twitch; every surface seemed to be covered in canvases and paints and old sheets.

Feliciano seemed determined to put aside his earlier discomfort, making sure that they had drinks and snacks and that they weren't too warm or too cold, and only then did he guide them over to an old Ottoman couch with an easel set up in front of it. Feliciano directed them as he pulled on an apron and set about sorting through brushes and opening tubes of paint.

"A little to your left please, and Ludwig, could you lean over a little. Arthur, could you smile a bit? You look so solemn."

Ludwig had to stifle a smile of his own when he heard Arthur sigh, but he couldn't blame Feliciano for the request. The slight smile that Arthur wore lightened his whole demeanour, made him look more approachable and...

Ludwig swallowed thickly, focusing on what Feliciano was doing. He seemed happy with their positioning and had started sketching, occasionally peeking around the canvas at them.

"Is this what you do for a living?" Arthur asked. "Or is it just a hobby?"

"Both," Feliciano said with a shrug. "I like painting and I sell some when people like them and sometimes I sketch when I am out and people like me to draw them. But I like cooking too so maybe that is more of a hobby for me."

Ludwig took a quickly glance around the room, looking at some of the paintings that he could see from his current position. He was not artistic himself, but he could appreciate art, and Feliciano obviously had talent.

They stopped for a late lunch eventually, and Feliciano disappeared into the kitchen, while Arthur and Ludwig stretched and worked the aches out of their muscles. "I certainly have more respect for professional models now," Ludwig said. It was harder than standing to attention even.

Arthur flashed him a smile and went over to take a look at some of the other paintings. They could hear the sound of Feliciano singing softly from the kitchen, amidst the clatter of pots and pans. "I don't like those black shirted men," Arthur said after a moment, never looking away from the paintings. It seemed almost dismissive if Ludwig couldn't hear the concern in his voice. "They put me on edge."

Ludwig huffed a small sigh of relief at the admission. He wasn't alone in his thoughts on the matter. "Me too," he agreed. "There seem to have been more of them appearing over the last few days too."

"Like they're converging," Arthur replied. "I don't like it. I think..." He paused when Feliciano emerged from the kitchen, wiping off his hands on a dishcloth.

"It will be ready soon!" he said cheerfully. "I prepared it mostly this morning which is why I was late to meet you. I hope that you don't mind too much, even if the pasta is a few hours old."

"We don't mind at all," Ludwig said. A few hours didn't seem unreasonable for pasta, although he was hardly a connoisseur of it. "We are very grateful for your hospitality, Feliciano."

Feliciano waves his hand dismissively. "It's my pleased. I like cooking and I don't get to cook for other people often so I enjoy it."

"Do you live alone?" Arthur asked curiously. It seemed odd for such a gregarious personality. "And your paintings are very fine," he added with a smile.

Feliciano flushed slightly with pleasure. "Thankyou. I'm hoping to hold an exhibition soon. Ah, but my brother sometimes comes around and I cook for him too. Well, we take turns at cooking." he paused for a moment, giving a small frown, and then he yelped, his eyes going very wide. "Wah! The pasta!" He bolted back into the kitchen to rescue the food.

Arthur couldn't stifle a soft chuckle, and Ludwig just watched him for a moment before looking away hurriedly. "Not the most organised, is he?" Arthur said, although there was no bite to his words.

Ludwig just shrugged, but didn't have time to reply before Feliciano emerged once more, carrying a large steaming pot, which he set down on the table which already showed the scars of hot saucepans in the wood.

"Can I get anything?" Ludwig asked politely.

Feliciano nodded. "There's salad and bowls in the kitchen if you don't mind," he said, sounding a little surprised by the offer.

The meal was delicious, perhaps even better than the food that had been served at the restaurants which they had been frequenting. If Feliciano hadn't been a painter, he could certainly have become a chef.

After lunch, Feliciano ushered them back into position so that he could work on the painting again, until the light began to fade into the first hints of evening and Feliciano finally set aside brush and palette and covered the painting over. He gave them a contented smile. "I will see you tomorrow, yes?" he said hopefully.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Ludwig, obviously expecting him to answer, and after a long moment, he nodded. "The same time and place," he said, not entirely certain why he was agreeing except that refusing would feel a little like kicking a puppy or stealing a toy from a child.

"Of course! I will see you both there then! Good night Ludwig, Arthur."

"Good night, Feliciano."

\----------

The walk back to their rented apartment was shorter without the frequent tangents that Feliciano had led them on, even though they made several wrong turns during the course of the walk back. They were hardly rushing anyway; it was a nice evening, pleasantly cool, and they took their time with it.

They were nearly back when Arthur stopped dead, spine stiffening, and it was sudden enough that Ludwig nearly walked right into him. He frowned at Arthur's back. "What is it?" he asked, only then looking up at what was in front of them.

He felt his blood run cold.

Twenty or so men, all wearing black shirts were stood there on the corner of the street, talking in lowered voices and obviously trying to hide something. They looked threatening like that, all wearing the same clothing, and the impression of them being akin to an army was only magnified.

"Something's going on," Arthur muttered, moving back to lurk in the shadows cast by the wall. "I don't like it."

Ludwig followed him, slinking into the shade of a building. "Me either," he said, equally quietly. "He couldn't suppress the uncomfortable churning in his stomach at the sight. "They don't look like they're in any hurry to leave," he added, lips drawing into a tight frown.

"Well," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes as he glanced over at the men for a moment, "they're the ones who are in the way." He flashed Ludwig a devilish grin and then set off towards the Blackshirts before Ludwig could say a word in protest. 

The men turned when they heard them approaching, expressions hard and suspicious. Arthur smirked at them, barging through the centre of their group carelessly. it was deliberately provocative in Ludwig's opinion; Arthur's shoulders were squared and his head held high, a challenging posture if Ludwig had ever seen one. Ludwig could only follow after him, gritting his teeth at the ridiculous bravado of his companion. 

The Blackshirts didn't seem to know quite what to make of them thankfully, and it gave them pause, enough that Arthur and Ludwig managed to turn the corner and start climbing the stairs to their apartment before any of them men decided to follow them.

Ludwig closed and bolted the door firmly as soon as he stepped inside, then turned to give Arthur an annoyed look. "That," he said, "was ridiculous irresponsible."

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him, a challenging smirk on his lips. "They didn't follow us," he said.

Ludwig barely stifled a sigh. "That is not the point," he said. "They could have, and they could have cause us serious problems."

"They wouldn't have," Arthur replied with a degree of certainty that Ludwig just could not share.

"How can you be so sure," he asked sceptically.

"They're waiting," Arthur said, heading over to the window and peering out over the street. "They don't want to draw more attention to themselves than they already do, so attacking foreigners isn't on their list of priorities. They're waiting for something more important, something big."

Ludwig grimaced. It would be easier to ignore if Arthur didn't sound so confident, but now that he'd said it, Ludwig could see his point. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "So we've got ourselves stuck in the middle of a potential revolution," he said bitterly. Just what they'd been trying to avoid.

"Possibly," Arthur said. "It's hard to tell without knowing what support they have in the country and amidst the authorities. But I doubt that they're after anything good."

"Perhaps we should be coming up with a contingency plan," Ludwig said, his expression darkening at the thought. "I don't want to be trapped in Italy if things get violent."

"That might be wise," Arthur agreed. "Keep our money with us at all times, along with the things that we cannot replace. Live out of our suitcases if possible."

"Be ready to leave at a moment's notice," Ludwig said sourly. He didn't relish the thought of fleeing, but he liked the idea of getting caught in the middle of a coup even less.

"It's probably nothing," Arthur said, although there was a grimness to his voice which belied his easy words.

"I hope that you're right," Ludwig murmured.


	8. Chapter 8

They met Feliciano again the next day for another session of modeling for the man's painting. It was fascinating to watch him work, mixing paints with an ease born of long practice and a natural flair for colour, barely seeming to need to think about it. Even so, he had kept the painting covered while they ate, refusing to let them see it.

"Not until I finish," he said with an enigmatic smile. "One more day and then when it is dry I will let you both see it."

One more day when they couldn't spend time searching, but it didn't feel so bad to be taking a break for a while. It was quite refreshing in fact, Ludwig felt, and he slept peacefully for once, unconcerned by the increasing numbers of black shirted men in the city.

A loud banging on the door woke him the next morning, and he sat up in bed with a start, blinking blearily around the room. The banging didn't stop and so he dragged on a shirt and trousers to go and answer the door. He could hear Arthur grumbling from the next room, having been woken up as well.

He opened the door to see Feliciano standing there, his clothing crumpled as though he'd slept in them, and his face was drawn and pale. "Feliciano?" he asked, unable to think of anything more in his sleep-addled state.

"Ah, Ludwig!" Feliciano wailed, managing to slip between Ludwig's body and the door frame to get inside the apartment. "Where's Arthur?" he asked frantically. "I need to speak to you!"

"I'm here," Arthur said, stepping into the lounge. His trousers were loose around his hips and he was fastening up his shirt as he spoke. He raised an eyebrow at Ludwig, a questioning glance, and Ludwig looked away hastily, realising that he'd been caught staring.

He brought Feliciano to one of the couches in the room and sat him down, then went to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen. Feliciano fidgeted badly, shifting position every few seconds, even worse than he was normally.

He gulped half of the water in one go and then opened his mouth to speak only to snap it shut again. This happened several times, with Feliciano seeming unable to find the words, until finally he blurted out '"You need to leave!"

"Leave?" Arthur asked, leaning casually against the doorframe to his room.

Feliciano nodded furiously. "Leave Venice. Leave _Italy_ ," he said earnestly.

Ludwig and Arthur shared a look. 'Blackshirts?' Arthur mouthed and Ludwig could see the way that his hand twitched at his hip, even though he wasn't carrying a gun. 

"Why is it so urgent?" Ludwig asked, trying to sound as gentle as he could when he spoke, despite the way that his heart had sped up at Feliciano's warning. Dread pooled in his stomach.

"The Blackshirts!" he wailed. "They're going to do horrible things and I don't think that it's safe and I don't want you to get hurt and hate Italy forever!"

"Horrible things? What do you mean?" Arthur asked, his voice low and serious as he fixed Feliciano with an intent look.

"My brother told me that they were an army and I believe him and please, don't get caught up in this!" he said, sounding half hysterical.

Ludwig patted his shoulder awkwardly, giving Arthur a helpless look. While they had planned for this sort of eventuality, putting those plans into action was another thing entirely. Where would they go to on such short notice? 

"We need some time to plan," Arthur said, echoing Ludwig's thought, although he looked unhappy about it. "We can hardly just walk away with all of our things. It's still a long way to the border."

"Train tickets!" Feliciano said, giving a soft sniffle. "I got you some! I thought that they would be gone quickly so I went and bought them as soon as I heard from my brother." He patted his pockets frantically until he found them, a pair of tickets, and he pushed them insistently into Ludwig's hand. "They'll take you all the way to the border," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets when Ludwig tried to return them.

"Feliciano, we can't ta-"

"Please! We are friends aren't we?" he said hopefully, giving Ludwig a wide-eyed look, and even Ludwig couldn't bring himself to refuse that look.

"Yes, we're friends Feliciano," he said with a soft sigh.

Arthur approached and nodded his agreement. Apparently Feliciano's wide-eyed look was no less effective from across the room. "You should use the tickets to get out of the country yourself, you and your brother," he said seriously.

"I can't do that," Feliciano said, sounding almost scandalised by the suggestion. "This is my home! I've always lived in Italy. I can't just abandon my country at a time of danger!"

Ludwig was a little taken aback by the show of such loyalty to a country, and he glanced up at Arthur, giving him a questioning look. They had wanted to avoid trouble if they could. Perhaps they should take Feliciano's advice.

"Alright," Arthur said after a long moment of thought. "Give us time to pack our things and we'll go." His tone made it clear that he didn't like the choice.

Feliciano made a sound of sheer relief and hugged Ludwig tightly for a moment, leaving the Nation sitting there, rather uncomfortable with the unfamiliar show of affection. Feliciano didn't seem to notice and after a moment, moved on to Arthur, who looked as uncomfortable as Ludwig felt.

"I'm glad, although I will miss you," Feliciano said, looking downcast. "I don't want to see my friends hurt, especially not in my country." He bit his lip for a moment, looking pensive, and then nodded to himself as though deciding something. "I would like to come with you to the train station," he said. "If you do not mind, that is."

Ludwig managed a small smile. "Why would we mind?"

They packed quickly and now Ludwig was glad that they'd decided to do most of it the other night in preparation for such an event. Feliciano seemed nervous; he kept peering out of the window every few minutes as if he expected Blackshirts to pour along the street at any moment, coming to break down the door.

Finally they reached the train station, although not without seeing an unusual number of Blackshirts along the way. They moved with purpose, obviously following orders, and they seemed even more like an army than ever. After every group, Ludwig felt a surge of relief that they were leaving.

The station at least was, for now, mercifully free of them, giving them time to find their train in peace.

Feliciano kept them company until it was time to leave, and he gave them both fierce hugs until Ludwig thought that he would never let go. "Be careful, Feliciano," he said, a little surprised at how easy it was to say it. Arthur murmured the same as Feliciano kissed their cheeks in an exaggerated gesture of farewell.

"Be careful, Ludwig, Arthur!" he called to them as he stepped down from the train to stand waving at them from the platform. "Don't get lost! I'll find you and give you the painting one day! Oh, and eat plenty of pasta! It's made with love!"

They could see him there on the platform as the train pulled away, waving and waving until the station was out of sight.

Ludwig's shoulders slumped and he felt suddenly very tired now that they were under way. "We should find our cabin," Arthur said, touching his arm gently for a moment.

"You're right," Ludwig said, reaching down to grab his trunk. "Do you think that he'll be alright?" he asked as they moved down the train towards the cabin that they'd be sleeping in.

Arthur nodded. "I'm sure that he'll be fine. He hardly seems the type to be obtrusive when it comes to a political agenda. We don't even know what's really going on. It might all fizzle out in a few days." His words were compelling, but he didn't sound as confident as Ludwig would have liked. 

"I hope so," Ludwig replied. He didn't like the thought of someone like Feliciano getting caught up in a civil war or whatever this trouble was going to become. He couldn't shake the ominous feeling hanging over him.

They found their berth and made themselves as comfortable as they could with their trunks and cases in the room with them, Arthur flopped down onto the tiny sofa which would become a bed when they wanted to sleep, stretching out his legs in front of him and leaning his head back. Ludwig went over to the window instead and looked out as the outskirts of Venice passed them by. He hoped that the person they had rented the apartment from wasn't too distressed by their departure and that no more trouble came his way. Perhaps they should have asked Felici-

Ludwig frowned as the thought occurred to him, niggling in the back of his mind, and he turned to Arthur. "Arthur," he said slowly, "Feliciano didn't know where in Venice we were staying."

\-----------

Feliciano waited in the station once the train passed out of sight, blinking back sad tears. They had been nice, Arthur and Ludwig. He didn't want nice people to see the ugliness that he could feel coming to Italy. Maybe they'd come back one day, although he probably wouldn't be able to see them, not if they were old and grey by then, and Feliciano was still young and healthy, but... he would have liked to have shown them the painting.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, cupping his hand around the flame to steady it, and then took a long drag. It helped to steady his hands and calm his frayed nerves, and the smoke was so pretty when it coiled up into the air. He stared after it, letting it entrance him for a while, even when he heard the sound of running feet approaching.

"Feliciano!"

His brother approached him quickly, his breathing heavy and his face flushed with exertion. He doubled over for a moment when he reached Feliciano, as he tried to regain his breath. "You weren't at home!" Lovino said sharply, his tone accusing even as Feliciano rubbed his back and gave him a concerned look.

"I was seeing off some friends," he said quietly, glancing out along the train tracks for a moment, even though the train was long out of sight. 

"Halt!"

Both of them looked up sharply and Feliciano quailed at the sight, swallowing thickly; numerous Blackshirts stood there in front of them, blocking off the entrance to the train station. They had guns which were trained on the brothers. Lovino's hand slid into his.

"Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, you will come with us."

Lovino turned to his brother, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Feliciano. I couldn't stop them and... they know what we are."


	9. Chapter 9

Ludwig sighed as they stepped out of Zurich's train station and into an almighty rainstorm. It thundered down, beating off the pavements and seeming to bounce back up towards their faces. They hung back, lingering in the doorway to avoid being splashed, and watching it bounce off the pavements.

“Could be worse,” Arthur said with disgusting cheer for someone who had just got off a long train journey at nearly midnight and stepped into torrential rain. “It could be snow.”

“I'm glad that it isn't,” Ludwig muttered. “Didn't we see enough of that on the way here?” They'd been stuck for two days after a snowstorm had hit the village that they'd been staying in in the foothills of the Swiss Alps.

“Should we wait for it to stop?” Arthur asked, looking warily up at the dark sky. “It could take a while.”

Thick dark clouds covered the sky as far as the eye could see and the rain showed no sign of letting up. “How far is the hotel?” Ludwig asked in response.

“The hotel said that it was close to the train station,” Arthur replied, although he sounded a little sceptical now that he was faced with that journey in the rain.

“We could start walking,” Ludwig said reluctantly. “We'll get wet enough trying to find a cab in this weather and after a point, you can't get any wetter.”

“Good point,” Arthur said with a touch of grim humour. “Well, I suppose we should brave it then.”

They were drenched almost as soon as they stepped out from the shelter of the train station, but as Ludwig had said, past a certain point, you were as wet as it was possible to get, even if the rain was icy cold and heavy enough to be almost painful. The hotel did turn out to be only a few streets away, and was a grand affair, all gilt and marble floors and Ludwig didn't think that he'd been so grateful to reach a hotel room in his entire life. The radiators had been turned on so it was wonderful to step into an already warm room.

Arthur vanished straight into the bathroom and emerged a moment later with a large towel which he threw to Ludwig. He caught it and began to dry himself off as best he could. He gave up quickly on trying to pat his clothing dry, and just stripped off the sodden items instead, then changed into his night clothes.

“Tomorrow,” he said, laying his wet clothes over the back of a chair to dry, “we should ask housekeeping to do the washing for us.” It sounded ridiculously domestic to his ears, enough that he winced at the sound of it.

Arthur stepped out from the bathroom, a thick robe pulled tightly around himself. His hair was even scruffier than normal, tousled from drying it, and he flopped down on his bed tiredly, giving a soft moan as he practically burrowed underneath the covers. “I don't care about tomorrow. I'm just glad to not be sleeping on a train again.”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at him, a faint smile on his lips. “I rather enjoyed the trains. We were hardly travelling Third Class there.” No, their cabin had been one of the finest on the train. It seemed extravagant, but Ludwig was hardly badly off and he was normally frugal with his money. He felt that he deserved a bit of luxury sometimes.

“Trains are so noisy,” Arthur protested. “Give me a good ship over one of those things any day.”

“Hmph, I suppose I should expect such words from an island,” Ludwig said, the humour obvious in his voice.

Arthur grinned. “I don't know how you deal with it, being pressed up all close and personal with so many others. No, I much prefer keeping a body of water between myself and the rest of Europe.”

“I think that this is the strangest conversation I've ever had,” Ludwig admitted, a little bemused by the turn that it had taken towards the absurd. Even if he couldn't imagine being surrounded by water all the time like that.

“It feels right though,” Arthur said quietly enough that Ludwig had to lean over to hear him. “It's hard sometimes talking with people who... who aren't like us, pretending that the things I talk about are normal human things when really that spat with the neighbours was the Napoleonic Wars. It's nice to speak so openly.”

Ludwig was silent for a moment before giving a heartfelt nod. He could sympathise, even with the rather bizarre analogy. “It is,” he agreed, “yes, it is.”

\----------

The rain had cleared by the next day, replaced with cool wintery light and a chilly breeze which seemed to cut to the bone no matter how many layers of clothing one wore. Ludwig found himself increasingly grateful for the pair of warm fur-lined gloves which Arthur had gifted him at Christmas, and Arthur seemed equally grateful for the thick knitted scarf that Ludwig had given to him. He had his nose buried into it now, his hands stuffed into his pockets. They had been humourous gifts really, but they had certainly been useful and would continue to be so if they headed further north and east.

“How many newspapers are you getting?” Arthur huffed as Ludwig added one more to the stack in his arms and headed to the counter to pay. 

“I like to keep up with the news and get different perspectives on things,” Ludwig replied as he handed over the money. “There are English and American papers too,” he added, glancing over at Arthur, “and a few others. I would like to keep up to date with happenings in Italy.”

Arthur grimaced and just took half of the stack without complaint, waiting until they had left the shop to reply. “You're worried about him aren't you? Feliciano I mean.”

“Ho can I not be?” Ludwig replied quietly, shifting the papers in his arms to a more comfortable position. Feliciano had seemed so innocent and helpless and he didn't deserve to be caught up in trouble such as that. “And if he is the Nation...” Ludwig added, only to trail off when Arthur gave him a sceptical look.

“We don't know that,” Arthur said. “All we have is your hunch. We weren't exactly hiding where we were staying. It could have been easy enough to work out from where we met him.”

“A hunch is no worse than your pendulum and superstition,” Ludwig said, a touch more sharply than he had intended. 

Arthur expression darkened and became guarded. “It worked to find William, didn't it?” 

“That was just coincidence,” Ludwig said. “If it worked then, then you should be able to find out if Feliciano is like us, surely. It should lead you right to him.”

Arthur scowled at him from over the stack of papers and Ludwig got the distinct impression that they were the only things keeping Arthur from punching him. “It doesn't work like that,” Arthur hissed angrily. “If it did, don't you think I would have used it years ago? I could find him, but it only tells me where he is, not _what_ he is.”

“Then it really does mean nothing more than my hunch, but at least that hunch is based on reason.”

He could see the way that Arthur's jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth and then, without warning, he shoved the rest of the papers into Ludwig's arms and turned sharply away.

“I'll see you later,” he said coldly before stomping away.

Ludwig stared after him for a moment before sighing heavily and squeezing his eyes shut. “Idiot,” he muttered at himself. Such a foolish argument. No point or purpose and he'd probably driven Arthur to the nearest bar for the rest of the day. He doubted that he would return to the hotel anytime soon at least. He'd probably arrive past midnight, drunk and angry.

He wasn't getting anything done like this though, so he resettled the newspapers in his arms and headed off in the opposite direction.

He spent two or three hours in a small coffee shop near the train station, poring over the newspapers for anything which piqued his interest. There was precious little from Italy, but perhaps that was good news considering. There was no sign of a civil war like Russia's at least. He did like being able to catch up on the news of his own country too, the things that he had missed while travelling, even if much of the news made his heart ache. It made him wonder for a moment whether it was safe or acceptable for him to spend so much time away from Germany like this. He didn't really know what could happen; he'd never spent so much time away.

He pushed that thought firmly aside and stood up, gathering the newspapers and shoving the ones that he wanted to keep into the satchel that he'd brought with him for that purpose. He left some Francs on the table to pay for his drinks, and then headed back out into the chilly weather.

It was a boon in a way that Arthur was not with him for his next visit, although the thought of their argument made his stomach clench into knots. It didn't happen often, but sometimes it felt as though there were so many differences between them, differences that they could not possibly hope to surmount. 

He had last visited this place several decades ago, but the building which housed the private bank had not changed one bit in all of those years, still standing strong and impressive near the centre of Zurich. He entered with a little trepidation. While he was dressed respectably, he still felt a touch out of place when the few other patrons visible were wearing clothes that were obviously from the finest tailors. Such obvious displays of wealth made him uncomfortable, never mind that in his years of life he'd probably amassed more wealth than most people could dream of. One of the advantages of living for so long and it kept him comfortable during hard times and when he needed to make himself scarce quickly.

His shoes clicked on the stone floor as he approached the reception desk. “My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. I would like to have access to my safe deposit box.”

It took surprisingly little time for his documents to be checked and for Ludwig's banker to be summoned to meet him.

They shook hands, Ludwig taking a moment look the man over and feeling an odd sense of deja vu as he did so. The man was a couple of inches shorter than Ludwig, with neat blond hair and blue eyes. His hand was calloused, unusual for a banker, and his grip was very firm. Like the other staff he had seen in the building, we was dressed conservatively in a neat black suit and no obvious sign of his occupation visible. “Vash Zwingli,” he said gruffly before stepping aside and gesturing to a nondescript doorway. “If you'll follow me.”

He walked with a military gait and led Ludwig through a hallway to an elevator. He pulled open the metal cage and allowed Ludwig to step inside first, then followed, closing the cage door and pressing the button to take them to the vault.

The silence seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable as the elevator descended, although the banker seemed oblivious to any discomfort. Perhaps it was all in Ludwig's head. He couldn't get rid of the sense of deja vu.

The lift came to a shuddering halt and once the cage was opened, Ludwig followed Zwingli towards the vault. The first door stood open, but there were other doors, equally heavyset and imposing. Zwingli led him to a small room next to one of the smaller vaults, with a felt topped table to open the security box onto. “Please, wait here,” Zwingli said. “I shall return momentarily with your box.”

He was gone for several minutes and then finally return in possession of two brass boxes, sealed and anonymous. He placed them down precisely in front of Ludwig, and then stepped away. “I will wait outside for you. Please call for me if you require any assistance.”

Ludwig waited until the door was firmly closed before he opened the first of the boxes. There was just money in that one; notes of various currencies and three gold ingots. Altogether, it was a good sized pot of money that he kept in case of emergencies when he didn't want anyone to know about him withdrawing money. He took one stack of notes and slipped it into his pocket. That should be more than enough to cover his costs for a good while yet, no matter how extravagantly they were travelling.

The second box he opened with rather more care. It did not contain anything of particular value, or at least, nothing of value to anyone else, but to Ludwig, the contents were valuable enough to warrant a secure box in a private Swiss bank.

What the box did contain was two leather bound journals, their covers bulging with added papers until they had to be held closed with elastic bands wrapped around them. He had kept diaries sporadically for as long as he could remember, mostly to catalogue the major events of his country's history as they occurred around him. His own record, because who knew better than himself how history could be distorted when it became something that had happened to other people. He felt safer having these kept safe somewhere that no-one save himself could ever get at them. 

He slid the slightly more recent diary into his satchel and then undid the elastic band around the older one, flipping through the pages carefully to keep the newspaper clippings and letters and other bits of paper from falling out. There were things here that he had written so many years ago that he barely remembered writing them. Entering Paris during the Franco-Prussian wars, oh yes, he remembered that triumph well. And wasn't he paying for it now, so many years later? France bleeding him dry as a petty act of vengeance.

He reached the very front page just inside the cover and frowned at the sight that met him. A letter which had been glued to the inside cover had come loose and behind it was elaborate writing that certainly wasn't his and that he didn't remember having seen before.

He didn't remember the letter for that matter. It had always been there, as he recalled, ignored for its familiarity. He'd never felt the need to look at it. His hand hovered over it for a moment, and he licked his lips nervously, a strange feeling of dread overcoming him for a moment.

Oh, this was ridiculous!

He opened the letter, smoothing it out on the tabletop with fastidious care. He was stalling, he knew. There was something about the letter and the writing which made him nervous, and it wasn't a feeling that he liked. He took a deep breath, forcing down the feelings of trepidation, and then started reading.

It was not a letter as he had first thought, not really. It was a doctor's note. His frown deepened as he read it; unknown patient found in a village outside Bonn, obviously dehydrated and had not eaten for several days, burns on much of the body. Unlikely to survive.

_Miraculous recovery._

Ludwig sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers running over the words as he read the letter again in disbelief. There was one other sentence which stood out for him though, the most damning one in the entire thing. _Patient answers to the name of Ludwig Beilschmidt'_.

A cold sweat seemed to have broken out across his body, and his fingers trembled as he turned back to the inside cover of the book. He could barely bring himself to look.

Property of the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt.  
Kingdom of Prussia  
1835

He stared even as his vision began to swim and fade at the edges, then all he saw was black.  
\----------  
 _”I'll be back soon, Ludwig. I have to visit Berlin. I'll only be a few weeks.”_

_A hand ruffled Ludwig's hair, warm and calloused and well loved. “You're getting so big now so I know you'll be fine.”_

_Ludwig nodded solemnly and then flames began to lick at his vision, catching on clothes and skin. The smell of burned flesh filled his nose, making bile rise in the back of his throat. His own flesh was burning, but he couldn't stop running to put it out, couldn't stop to cough the smoke and ash from his lungs. All that he could do was run and run and hope that they wouldn't find him._

 

Ludwig groaned softly as he opened his eyes, the light seeming to pierce his skull, only to he met with Zwingli's sharp blue gaze. Ugh, he hurt; his head was throbbing as though he had been hit with something and... wait, why was he on the floor? 

He tried to speak, and it took several distressing moments before he managed it. “What happened?” he managed to grind out.

Zwingli looked him over for a moment before pulling away, apparently satisfied that he wasn't injured too badly, and offered him a hand to stand up. Ludwig's head swam, but he managed to make it up and then sank down in the chair, leaning his head in his hands. “What happened?” he repeated.

“You passed out,” Zwingli said seriously. “I heard the noise and I came to check, although I apologise, but I saw your possessions when I did so.”

Ludwig waved him off. He hardly cared about that, no matter what the protocol was. The diary and papers which had scattered when he'd collapsed had been gathered together and placed on the table. “Do you need me to call a doctor?” Zwingli asked, as calmly as though this were something that happened every day. 

“No,” Ludwig replied. “I... I'm fine. Although if a cab could be called to take me back to my hotel when I leave, then I would be grateful.” He wasn't certain whether his legs would carry him so far. It was embarrassing to admit that to himself.

“Of course,” Zwingli said. “Do you need more time here?”

Ludwig was silent for a long moment before he shook his head. “No. I got what I came for.” And more besides.

Zwingli collected the boxes carefully, and took them back to the vault. He took longer than he had before, and Ludwig was grateful for the time that it gave him to think. He wondered if Zwingli had planned it that way. He was certainly very considerate and... 

Ludwig paused thoughtfully, something occurring to him. He took the newer of the two diaries and flicked through the pages, looking for a particular entry. He'd last been at the bank before the war, several years before in fact. 1903 he thought it had been. It was written there near the end of the diary, only a few pages before the end, and those pages contained ticket stubs and a postcard. May 7th, 1903, nearly twenty years ago. He scanned the entry quickly. Zwingli. The name was written there, as he had suspected it might be. The man who had managed his finances back them. The similarity was striking, although the man Ludwig had met back there had worn his hair far shorter and most of the other details about him had been worn away by time in Ludwig's memory.

Zwingli returned, and Ludwig closed the diary almost guiltily before giving him a long look which Zwingli returned calmly. Ludwig licked his lips with a touch of nervousness, but what else could he do? He couldn't just ignore the hunch or he would never forgive himself. “How long have you worked here?” Not the most eloquent question, but perhaps bluntness would work as well.

Zwingli arched one eyebrow at him. “Several years,” he replied blandly, showing not a flicker of emotion otherwise. “Are you feeling well enough to leave, Mr. Beilschmidt?”

“I write it down every time I come here,” Ludwig continued. “And every time, I think it has been someone with your name handling my account.”

“Each account is assigned to one person to maintain until either the banker or the account holder leaves the company.”

“It was 1903 when I was last here,” Ludwig said flatly. “1885 before that.” he was giving himself away, he knew that. He looked twenty. He'd _always_ look twenty, and he needed to know whether this man was the same.

“It is a family business,” Zwingli replied, and perhaps his lack of reaction to Ludwig's revelation, to Ludwig's _age_ was more damning than anything else. “We take care of certain 'special' accounts, ones where the owners require particularly long-term access.”

His tone never changed from the bland, polite one that he had used all along, but Ludwig thought that he detected a faint smirk playing about his lips. Special long-term accounts? Did he mean...?

“I'm afraid that I have another appointment. My associate will take you back upstairs,” Zwingli said, turning to the door and stepping outside.

Ludwig jumped to his feet, hands slamming down onto the table-top. “You're like me!” he said, feeling a sharp sense of urgency. “I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt! I'm _Germany_!” he cried, starting forward and reaching the door only to see Zwingli's retreating back as one of the vault doors closed behind him.

No-one would tell him anything about Zwingli; not the man who took him back upstairs, nor the lady at reception. He was responded to with platitudes, polite but firm, until he finally left when his cab arrived. He couldn't do anything more there.

Besides, part of him said, wasn't finding this Gilbert Beilschmidt more important than a country who didn't want to be found?


End file.
